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A 


CALTHORPE; 

OR, 

FALLEN     FORTUNES: 

BY    THE    AUTHOR    OF 
THE  MYSTERY;    OR,  FORTY  YEARS  AGO. 


"  We  worldly  men,  when  we  see  friends,  and  kinsmen, 

Past  hope  sunk  in  their  fortunes,  lend  no  hand 

To  lift  'em  up,  but  rather  set  our  feet 

Upon  their  heads,  to  press  'em  to  the  bottom  ; 

But,  now  I  see  you  in  a  way  to  rise, 

I  can,  and  will,  assist  you." 


IN  THREE    VOLUMES, 

VOL.  I. 
LONDON: 

PRINTED   FOR 

LONGMAN,   HURST,   KEES,   ORME,    AND    BROWN, 

PATERNOSTER-ROW. 

1821. 


^Z3 
GZZe^ 


PREFACE. 


The  success  of  "  The  Mystery  j  or, 
Forty  Years  Ago,"  has  induced  its 
author  thus  early  to  appear  before  the 
pubUc  a  second  time.  It  was  by  many 
thought  that  a  Preface  ought  to  have 
been  given  with  the  former  novel,  to 
state  that  many  of  its  details  were  not 
fictitious.  One  is  supplied  here  for  an 
opposite  reason.  The  author  is  anxious 
it  should  be  known  that  the  following 
scenes  (certain  facts  connected  with  the 
war  in  Saxony  excepted),  have  no  found- 
ation in  fact.     The  characters  are  ima- 


VI  PREFACE. 

ginary  ;  and  the  Lord  Mayor,  the 
Coroner,  and  other  personages  mention- 
ed, are  sketched  without  the  slightest 
reference  to  the  individuals  who  filled 
those  situations,  at  the  period  which  is 
identified  with  the  incidents  of  the 
novel. 

The  little  poem,  in  the  first  volume, 
was  originally  sent  to  the  publication 
from  which  it  is  represented  to  be  read. 
It  was  thence  copied  into  several 
journals  —  in  some  inaccurately.  This 
has  induced  the  author  to  reclaim  it 
here. 


CALTHORPE; 

OR, 

FALLEN  FORTUNES. 


CHAPTER  I. 


"  There  is  nothing  more  certaine  than  death,  nothing 
more  un certaine  than  the  time  of  dying.  I  will  there- 
fore be  prepared  for  that  at  all  times,  which  may  come  at 
any  time,  must  come  at  one  time  or  another.  I  shall  not 
hasten  my  death  by  being  still  ready,  but  sweeten  it.  It 
makes  me  not  die  the  sooner,  but  the  better." 

Warwick's  Spare  Minutes* 

Pursuing  one  of  the  delightfully  pleasant 
walks  which  adorn  the  banks  of  the 
Thames,  in  the  vicinity  of  Richmond, 
Mr.  Burleigh  and  his  son  Henry  were  on 
a  summer's  afternoon  admiring  the  beau- 
tiful associations,  which  the  varied  efforts 
of  nature  and  art  there  present  to  the 
view,  when  a  person  running  hastily  up 

VOL.  I.  B 


£  CALTHORPE. 

to   them,   accosted  the  father  in  these 
words : 

«  My  dear  Sir,  why  did  you  run  away 
the  instant  the  jury  gave  their  verdict  ?'* 
"  Because,  Sir,  my  duty  was  perform- 
ed, and  the  result  known  to  the  parties 
most  concerned  in  it." 

"  But  we  can*t  spare  you  Sir,  yet.  — 
How  admirably  you  cross-examined  that 
rascal !  We  dine  together  to  commemo- 
rate our  victory ;  your  company  is  par- 
ticularly requested,  and  I  have  been  dis- 
patched in  a  chaise-and-four  to  fetch  you 
from  your  retirement.  The  parties  all 
declare,  that  they  cannot  do  without 
you.  Come  Sir,  —  the  chaise  is  waiting ; 
let  us  join  them  with  all  expedition. 
Your  son  too,  we  shall  be  proud  to  see 
him  of  the  party." 

Mr.  Burleigh  replied,  "  I  am  flattered 
by  the  attention  of  my  late  clients,  and 
happy  to  find  that  my  humble  efforts 
have  afforded  them  satisfaction  ;  but  their 
obliging  invitation  I  must  decline." 


CALTHORPE.  3 

«  O  !  really,  Sir,  it  will  damp  the 
spirits  of  the  whole  company  if  you  are 
absent." 

"  I  hope  not  Sir ;  but  on  this  occasion 
I  must  be  excused." 

The  invitation  was  repeated ;  argu- 
ments in  favour  of  Mr.  Burleigh's  ac- 
cepting it  were  urged  with  all  the 
eloquence  the  speaker  could  command ; 
but  in  vain :  Mr.  Burleigh  continued  po- 
litely to  decline,  and  the  other  at  length 
took  his  leave,  regretting  his  failure,  but 
promising  that  the  health  of  the  victori- 
ous advocate  should  be  drunk  in  bumpers 
with  three-times-three. 

As  he  departed,  Mr.  Burleigh  heaved 
a  deep  sigh,  and  he  gazed  on  Henry  for 
some  moments  in  silence. 

On  this,  his  only  son,  the  eye  of  Mr. 
Burleigh  might  dwell  with  that  exalted 
pleasure,  which  a  fond  father  knows, 
when  his  reason  tells  him  that  the  warm 
affection  which  nature  planted  in  his 
heart,  has  not  been  unworthily  called- 
B  2 


4'  CALTHORPE. 

forth ;  and  when  the  object  of  his  love, 
awake  to  all  the  indulgences  it  has  re- 
ceived, is  proud  to  respond  to  them  with 
unaffected  gratitude. 

Their  union  was  indeed  very  different 
from  that  which  is  commonly  seen.  Mr. 
Burleigh  had  married  while  yet  a  young- 
man,  and  retained  so  lively  a  recollection 
pf  the  follies  of  his  childhood,  that,  with- 
out tolerating  errors  which  it  was  his 
duty  as  a  parent  to  repress,  he  had  so 
tempered  reproof  with  reasoning,  and 
chastisement  with  kindness,  that  the 
youth  stood  corrected  without  suspecting 
that  harshness  or  undue  severity  had  any 
share  in  the  remonstrance  made,  or  the 
punishment  awarded.  That  system  which, 
throwing  the  son  at  an  immeasurable 
distance  from  the  father,  is  supposed  to 
be  essential  to  the  regulation  of  a  family, 
by  men  of  austere  manners,  and  by  those 
who  become  parents  in  the  decline  of 
life,  when  all  that  was  good  in  their  tem- 
pers has  been  worn  out,  and  all  sympathy 
17 


CALTHORPE. 


for  youth  absorbed  in  sour  repinings  at 
the  accumulating  infirmities  of  age,  had 
never  met  with  the  approbation  of  Mr. 
Burleigh.  In  him,  Henry  saw,  not  the 
stern  foe  of  his  pleasures,  but  the  liberal 
patron,  and  occasionally  the  partner  of 
his  sports ;  in  Henry,  the  father  found, 
not  the  irreclaimable  and  repining  rebel 
against  his  authority,  but  an  ardent,  ad- 
miring, and  devoted  friend,  ever  ready  to 
yield  prompt  obedience  to  his  mandate, 
and  anxious,  if  possible,  to  anticipate  his 
bidding. 

The  melancholy  expressed  in  his  fa- 
ther's countenance,  immediately  after 
gaining  a  cause,  in  which  he  had  much 
interested  himself,  surprised  Henry,  and 
he  could  not  refrain  from  enquiring  why 
he  was  thus  affected. 

"  I  am  sad,''  he  replied,  "  reflecting 
that  the  same  incident  which  gives  to 
one  party  unbounded  joy,  overwhelms 
another  with  indescribable  agony.  The 
defendant,  in  the  action  just  terminated, 
B  a 


6  CALTHORPE* 

was  in  court  when  the  jury  returned  their 
verdict.  He  heard  the  words  which 
announced  his  utter  ruin,  and  his  dark 
and  full  eyes  threw  from  beneath  the 
black  and  overgrown  arches  which  sur- 
mount them,  a  glance — a  terrific  glance, 
of  maddening  anguish  and  irrestrainable 
fury.  They  fell  on  me,  and  in  that 
moment  I  recognised  one  whom  I  had 
not  seen  for  many  years,  whom  I  had 
supposed  to  be  dead,  and  who,  in  early 
life,  considered  me,  though  without  just 
cause,  to  be  his  enemy." 

"  But  you  have  no  personal  interest  in 
the  termination  of  this  law-suit." 

"  And  therefore,  to  this  unhappy  man, 
the  zeal  with  which  I  espoused  the  cause 
of  my  client  from  a  sincere  conviction 
that  he  was  right,  will  appear  the  off- 
spring of  malignant  hostility,  and  aggra- 
vate the  misery  which  he  at  present  feels. 
I  have  directed  my  clerk  to  seek  his 
residence."  — 

"  With  a  view  of  assuring  him  that 
you  acted  from  no  private  feelings  of  a 


CALTHORPE.  7 

resentful  character,  and  of  offering  him 
rehef?'* 

"  No,  Henry ;  the  assurance  would  not 
obtain  credence,  and  the  offer  of  assist- 
ance would  be  spurned  as  an  insult. 
My  object  is  to  find  out  his  abode,  that 
I  may  do  something  to  console  him,  with- 
out letting  him  know  to  whom  he  stands 
obliged." 

"  That  will  be  true  generosity.  At 
some  future  period  he  will  know  your 
kindness,  and  do  justice  to  your  mo- 
tives.'" 

«  We  must  not  calculate  upon  that: 
men  who  know  the  world  ought  to  make 
up  their  minds  to  endure,  though  not  to 
deserve,  reproacli.  The  circumstance 
which  I  have  just  mentioned  makes  me 
regret,  (as  I  have  often  done  before,)  that 
ever  the  profession  of  the  law  became 
mine.  It  is  melancholy  to  reflect,  that 
doing  our  duty  to  one  man,  we  must 
speak  daggers  to  the  heart  of  another. 
This  leads  me  to  a  subject  on  which  we 
B  4 


8  CALTHORPE. 

have  frequently  conversed,  and  on  which 
I  think  we  ought  now  to  come  to  a  de- 
cision. You  have  just  completed  your 
twentieth  year ;  and,  as  yet,  no  plan  for 
your  future  life  has  been  chalked  out. 
For  this  I  blame  myself,  as  I  must  con- 
fess, that  I  have  hitherto  been  but  too 
much  inclined  to  postpone  the  moment 
of  our  parting,  which  must  follow  close 
upon  that  which  witnesses  our  final  deter- 
mination. It  is  true,  that  with  the  mo- 
derate means  I  possess,  it  is  not  abso- 
lutely necessary  that  you  should  devote 
yourself  to  a  profession,  as  I  was  obliged 
to  do  in  my  younger  days;  but  still,  a 
life  of  indolence  is  not  to  my  taste,  and 
I  flatter  myself  it  is  not  more  to  yours. 
Though  the  rich  and  the  high-born  na- 
turally exult  in  the  possession  of  wealth 
transmitted  to  them  through  a  long  line 
of  illustrious  ancestors,  yet,  in  my  opinion, 
no  possessions,  no  distinctions,  are  so 
pregnant  with  enjoyment,  as  those  which 
a  man  feels  he  owes  to  his  own  exertions." 


CALTHORPE.  y 

«  In  this  sentiment  I  participate;  and, 
honourably  as  your  property  has  been 
acquired,  I  should  be  unwilUng  to  enjoy 
a  part  of  it,  without  making  an  effort  to 
add  something,  as  the  produce  of  my  own 
industry/' 

"  Now,  at  the  bar,  though  I  have  been 
so  fortunate  as  to  obtain  an  independ- 
ence, I  do  not  think  it  opens  a  very 
favourable  prospect  for  a  young  man  of 
integrity  and  spirit.  That  I  made  my 
way  as  I  did,  was  owing  to  accident 
rather  than  to  talent,  or  to  the  certain 
encouragement  given  to  industry.  I 
know  many  respectable  men,  and  sound 
lawyers  too,  who  hardly  make  enough 
by  their  profession  to  find  themselves  in 
wigs,  gowns,  and  chambers ;  while  a  few 
flashy,  flimsy  spouters  carry  all  before 
them,  and  are  eternally  blockaded  in 
their  houses  by  clients,  whom  they  are 
too  insolently  arrogant  to  see,  yet  who, 
after  all,  possess  so  little  true  independ- 
ence, that  a  judge  can  at  any  time  frown 
B  6 


10  CALTHORlPE. 

away  in  an  instant,  the  cause  brought 
forward  by  their  advice." 

«  It  is  not  with  these  that  I  should 
wish  to  be  associated." 

"  No,  nor  with  the  pitiful  sycophan- 
tic tribe  beside  them,  who  sit,  through  a 
long  forenoon,  in  a  fever  of  expectation, 
that  their  courteous  grimaces  may  at 
last  be  requited  with  a  nod  from  an  At- 
torney-general, or  a  look  of  gracious 
condescension  from  the  bench." 

"  Why  then.  Sir,  I  fear  we  must  give 
up  the  law." 

*<  From  what  I  have  been  able  to  see 
of  your  disposition,  it  never  struck  me 
that  you  would  be  able  to  devote  your- 
self to  it  with  that  zealous  application, 
which  can  alone,  under  the  most  favour- 
able circumstances,  command  success  ;  — 
that  success  on  which  a  man  in  his  de- 
clining days  might  reflect  with  honest 
pride.  That  you  might  make  a  showy 
speech,  that  would  read  very  well  in  the 
newspapers,  is  extremely  probable  y  but, 


CALTHORPE.  11 

when  it  is  considered,  from  certain  cele- 
brated examples  before  us,  how  little  in- 
tellect  will  accomplish  this ;  where  a 
man  is  content  to  be  the  slave  of  tinkling 
sounds,  foolish  figures,  and  laborious  an- 
titheses, you,  I  am  sure,  would  not  feel 
very  anxious  to  acquire  the  reputation  of 
a  legal  orator." 

"  No,  Sir,  I  should  be  sorry  to  have 
some  of  the  unmeaning  compilations,  re- 
cently given  to  the  public  as  speeches, 
reported  to  have  been  uttered  by  me/' 

"  And  I  should  not  like  to  see  you 
obliged,  as  I  have  been,  to  found  your 
hopes  of  comfort  on  the  litigation  and 
injustice  of  your  fellow-creatures;  With 
the  same»feelings,  when  I  have  thought 
of  physic,  —  or  of  the  army  and  navy — " 

"  The  combination  is  happy.  You 
would  not  like  your  son  to  take  his  stand 
among  the  destroyers  of  mankind." 

"  Perhaps,    I  am    ridiculously    fasti-, 
dious  ;  but  I  could  wish  to  see  you  in  a 
situation,  in  which  it  would  be  your  in- 
B  6 


12  CALTHORPE. 

terest  to  desire  the  prosperity  and  well- 
being  of  all  the  world ;  rather  than  in 
one,  which  might  give  you  fame  and 
fortune,  growing  out  of  ruin,  calamity, 
or  death.'* 

"  And  what  course;  then,  upon  mature 
reflection,  is  that  which  you  would  have 
me  prefer  ?" 

**  I  would  direct  your  attention  to 
commerce  j  and  this  I  would  the  rather 
press  on  your  attention,  as,  at  this  time,  I 
have  an  opportunity  of  placing  you  in 
the  house  of  an  acquaintance,  (I  speak 
of  Mr.  Hanson,)  who,  from  very  low 
beginnings,  has  risen  to  opulence,  by  in- 
dustry and  talent.  He  is,  perhaps,  a  little 
too  much  elated  with  his  success  ;  a  little 
too  fond  of  talking  of  himself ;  but  these 
are  things  to  be  endured ;  and  I  can  al- 
most say,  I  enjoy  them  in  a  trader  exult- 
ing over  honest  triumphs.'' 

*<  Am  I,  then.  Sir,  to  understand,  that 
to  commerce  you  would  turn  my  thoughts 
for  the  time  to  come." 


CALTHORPE.  13 

**  Even  so.  If  you  feel  any  strong 
objection  to  the  course  that  I  would  re- 
commend, state  it  freely  at  once,  before 
any  advance  has  been  made  from  which 
it  might  be  difficult  or  unpleasant  to  re- 
cede." 

"  Far  from  having  any  objection  to 
the  calling  of  a  merchant,  it  is,  as  I  am 
bound  to  believe  your  sagacity  and'  kind- 
ness have  already  discovered,  that  which, 
of  all  others,  I  feel  most  inclined  to  pre- 
fer. To  be  made  intimately  acquainted 
with  the  products  of  every  clime,  and  to 
be  actively  engaged,  with  the  represent- 
atives of  every  people  on  earth,  in  the 
meritorious  work  of  exchanging,  against 
the  superfluous  bounty  of  nature  in  one 
hemisphere,  the  varied  means  of  enjoy- 
ment and  comfort,  which  labour  and  skill 
may  create  in  another,  will  appear  to  me 
as  honourable,  and  certainly  a  more  agree- 
able occupation,  than  devoting  my  days 
to  the  lovers  of  litigation  5  to  incessant 


t4f  CALTHORPE. 

attendance  on  disease,  or  the  most  vic- 
torious career  in  the  work  of  death." 

"  In  all  professions  there  are  some 
evils.  It  too  frequently  happens,  that 
the  man  of  commerce,  carried  away  by 
the  love  of  enterprise,  becomes  a  despe- 
rate speculator,  and  practices,  from  which 
honour  and  sensibility  would  recoil  seem 
justified  to  him  by  the  single  circum- 
stance, that  they  promise  to  be  profitable." 

**  I  am  aware  of  this.  Sir ;  but  hope  I 
shall  always  remember,  that  opulence, 
though  a  good,  is  not  the  greatest  of  the 
numerous  blessings  to  which  mortals  may 
aspire." 

"  And,  that  attained  so  completely, 
that  avarice  and  ambition  can  desire  no 
more ;  it  is  worthless  —  absolutely  worth- 
less, if  a  blameless  conscience  be  not  pre- 
served to  fit  its  possessor  for  enjoyment. 
The  inconveniences  of  poverty  are  great, 
but  the  sufferer  has,  at  least,  the  satisfac- 
tion of  knowing,  that  they  must  be  short. 


CALTHORPE.  1.5 

A  few  years,  and  it  will  be  of  little  im- 
portance to  him,  whether  he  drank  wine 
or  water ;  whether  he  reclined  under  a 
superb  canopy,  or  sought  a  lodging  in 
some  unguarded  cattle-shed ;  whether  he 
rode  at  ease  in  his  chariot,  or  painfully 
dragged  his  crippled  limbs  after  a  pair  of 
crutches/' 

*'  But  I  fear,  Sir,  it  is  no  easy  task  to 
discipline  the  mind  so  as  to  preserve  this 
consciousness  of  the  temporary  character 
of  pain  and  distress,  under  the  immediate 
pressure  of  calamity." 

'*  Unquestionably  there  are  moments 
when  the  sudden  throb  of  anguish  may 
surprise  our  weakness,  but  these  will  be 
but  of  short  duration  where  reflection 
does  its  duty.  The  multitude  are  not 
aware  how  much  the  present  is  made  up 
of  the  past,  and  the  future.  To  enjoy 
the  time  being,  on  an  enlarged  scale, 
agreeable  recollections,  and  cheering 
hopes  must  lend  their  bland  influence. 
Without  these,  a  brief  delirious  transport 


16  CALTHORPE. 

may  be  known,  but  no  solid  tranquil 
deligbt.  What  can  memory  furnish,  and 
what  can  hope  supply,  to  bless  his  de- 
clining day,  who,  in  youth  and  manhood, 
has  devoted  all  his  energies  to  a  career 
of  irrational,  heartless  dissipation ;  and 
who,  sinking  beneath  the  pains  of  pro- 
tracted years,  tremblingly  shrinks  from 
the  contemplation  of  the  rapidly  ap- 
proaching crisis,  which  must  usher  his 
unprepared  spirit  into  the  awful  presence 
of  his  long-forgotten  Creator. 

"  In  that  dread  moment  how  the  frantic  soul. 
Raves  round  the  walls  of  her  clay  tenement, 
Runs  to  each  avenue,  and  shrieks  for  help, 
But  shrieks,  alas !  in  vain." 

"  That  moment  is,  indeed,  awful,  even 
to  those  who  have  best  performed  their 
duty." 

*<  I  know  not  why  it  should  be  so. 
When  fatigued,  we  shudder  not  at  resign- 
ing ourselves  to  slumber  for  a  few  hours. 
These  frequent  and  incessant  interrup- 
tions of  existence,  I  could  almost  suppose 


CALTHORPE.  17 

designed  to  relieve  us  from  vain  terrors. 
Why  should  we  shrink  from  the  longer, 
more  than  from  the  shorter  period  of 
repose,  which  exhausted  nature  craves. 
The  same  mighty  arm  that  guards  us 
while  we  sleep,  can  protect  us  in  death. 
I  am  not  so  presuming  as  to  think  that  I 
have  no  sins  to  answer  for ;  but  really  I 
do  not  — "I  cannot  feel  that  dread  of 
death,  which  many  cherish  to  embitter 
life.  I  am  sustained  by  a  cheering  con^ 
fidence  that,  entering  on  an  immortal 
state,  I  may  expect  my  errors,  though 
many,  will  not  prove  such  as  to  provoke 
eternal  wrath ;  and  I  sometimes  dare  to 
persuade  myself  that  I  shall  but  return 
to  an  indulgent  Parent,  to  receive  his 
chastening  rebuke,  and  to  enjoy  his  be- 
nignant smile." 

"  Distant  be  that  day.  Many,  many 
happy  years  of  earthly  enjoyment  are,  I 
trust,  still  before  you." 

"  I  doubt  not,  the  wish  you  have  ex- 
pressed is  as  sincere  as  it  is  dutiful  5  but, 


is 


CALTHORPE. 


Henry,  a  day  must  come  to  separate  us. 
A  very  few  years, —  presuming  man  that 
I  am !  — .a  few  years,  did  I  say?  —  a  few 
weeks,  nay  days,  may  terminate  my 
mortal  career.  A  tear  starts  in  your  eye. 
This  is  weakness.  One  of  the  mast 
beneficent  ordinations  of  Heaven  decrees 
that  I,  in  the  course  of  human  events, 
should  pass  from  this  world  before  you. 
To  lament  this,  is  to  complain  of  the 
conditions  on  which  the  Deity  has  granted 
us  existence.^' 

"  Forgive  me,  Sir,  it  is  not  so.  But 
for  me,  since  it  is  my  happy  lot  to  find 
my  dearest  friend  in  my  father^  surely  I 
may  be  permitted  to  wish  that  your  life 
and  my  felicity  may  be  unusually  ex- 
tended ',  and  that  we  may  finally  expire 
together." 

"  Forbid  it.  Heaven  !  Surely  you  would 
not  wish  to  escape  from  life  while  any  of 
its  duties  remain  unfulfilled.  That  were 
akin  to  the  dreadful  feeling  that  urges 
"weak,  frantic  wretches  to  lift  their  daring 


CALTHORPE.  19 

hands  against  themselves.  Whether  life 
be  conceded  as  a  boon,  or  inflicted  as 
a  punishment  on  our  refractory  spirits, 
of  this  at  least  we  may  be  certain,  that  it 
was  not  bestowed  without  an  object;  and 
be  that  object  what  it  may,  it  is  our  duty 
to  endeavour  to  preserve  existence,  in 
order  that,  so  far  as  depends  upon  us,  it 
may  be  accomplished." 

"  But  I  have  not  wished  that  my  death 
may  prematurely  occur," 

'*  And  would  you  then  wish  that  mine 
should  be  so  mournfully  deferred  —  that 
my  spirit  should  so  long  be  denied  eman- 
cipation, that  yours  may  be  fully  pre- 
pared to  accompany  it  in  its  flight  ?  If 
you  value  me,  it  must  be  for  the  per- 
ceptions, —  for  the  feelings,  —  for  the 
mind,  that  appertain  to  this  frame ;  and 
deserted  by  these,  as  in  a  few  years  it 
must  be,  I  hope  Henry  you  would  not 
weakly  desire  that  I  should  know  the 
miserable  privilege  of  decaying  above 
ground.     When  I  can  no  longer  be  use* 


go  CALTHORPE. 

ful  to  my  fellow-creatures,  or  sensible  of, 
and  grateful  for,  the  happy  destiny  that 
has  been  mine  ;  O  !  then  may  interposing 
Mercy  step  between  me  and  any  longing, 
lingering  love  of  existence  that  may  re- 
main, and  liberate  my  soul  from  its 
prison/' 

"  But  still  may  I  rationally  hope  that 
that  day  is  remote,  since  you  are  now  in 
the  vigour  of  life.  Time  may,  perhaps, 
prepare  me  for  that  which,  at  present,  I 
tremble  to  contemplate." 

"But,  to  drop  this  subject,  and  return 
to  that  on  which  we  first  conversed,  you 
say  you  have  no  objection,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  have  a  strong  inclination  to 
embrace  the  profession  of  a  merchant  ?" 

"  I  have.'' 

"  Then  I  will  write  to  Mr.  Hanson, 
and  tell  him  that  you  are  about  to  ac- 
cept his  invitation  to  spend  a  few  days  in 
town,  at  the  same  time  giving  him  to 
understand  something  of  my  future  views. 
When  you  determine  that  a  thing  ought 


CALTHORPE.  Ql 

to  be  done,  always  do  it,  if  possible,  im- 
mediately, and  you  will  thus  avoid  losing 
time  and  opportunities,  which  you  will 
otherwise  regret  w^hen  it  is  too  late.  Ex- 
ample, however,  is  better  than  precept,  so 
I  will  go  home  and  prepare  my  letter 
forthwith ;  and  do  you  at  the  same  time 
make  any  little  arrangements  you  may 
think  necessary  before  paying  a  visit  to 
the  opulent  citizen/' 

Mr.  Burleigh  did,  without  loss  of  time 
what  he  had  resolved  to  do  ;  and  Henry 
neglected  not  good  advice,  even  though 
it  came  from  a  father.  The  letter  was 
written  and  sent  that  night,  and  on  the 
morning  of  the  day  after  it  had  been  re- 
ceived, with  a  few  additional  hints  for 
the  regulation  of  his  conduct,  and  but  a 
moderate  sample  of  compliments  and  re- 
membrances, considering  that  he  was 
going  to  people  who  lived  ten  miles  off, 
and  who  had  not  been  seen  for  a  montli 
by  the  female  part  of  the  family,  Henry- 
stepped  into  the  stage,  which  was  then 
starting  for  London. 


S2  CALTHORPE. 


CHAP.  11. 


"  One  of  us  two  must  rule,  and  one  obey; 
And  since  in  man  right  reason  bears  the  sway. 
Let  that  frail  thing,  weak  woman,  have  her  way. 
The  wives  of  all  my  family  have  ruled 
Their  tender  husband's  and  their  passions  cooled.** 

Wife  of  Bath. 


Mr.  Hanson,  as  Henry  had  been  told, 
rose  from  low  beginnings.  He  had,  in- 
deed, been  somewhat  lower  than  Mr. Bur- 
leigh supposed  that  he  had  been.  When 
he  first  became  known  to  the  latter,  he 
was  the  chief  clerk  in  a  mercantile  house, 
which  had  the  misfortune  to  be  frequently 
engaged  in  law-suits,  and  the  good  for- 
tune to  have  Mr.  Burleigh  to  conduct 
them  to  a  satisfactory  conclusion.  But, 
at  that  period,  he  had  obtained  a  consi- 
derable elevation  ;  for  if  he  had  thought 
it  would  not  look  foolish  to  be  always 


CALTHORPE.  23 

talking  of  himself^  and  had  not  contented 
himself  merely  with  doing  it  very  often, 
he  might  have  told  his  friend,  as  he  had 
always  the  good  taste  to  call  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh, that  his  elegant  person,  of  which 
he  was  not  a  little  vain,  had  been  origi- 
nally displayed  in  putting  up  and  taking 
down  the  shutters  of  a  linen-draper's  shop, 
and  subsequently,  as  his  talents  began  to 
lift  him  to  eminence,  in  flourishing  be- 
hind the  counter,  which  he  had  at  first 
only  been  permitted  to  approach,  when, 
to  keep  up  to  its  usual  attractive  polish, 
it  required,  with  the  duster,  an  extraordi- 
nary supply  of  what  was  technically  called 
"  elbow-grease." 

Now,  though  the  rich  citizen  owed 
much  of  his  success  in  life  to  his  ap- 
plication  to  business,  there  were  other 
circumstances,  of  which  Mr.  Burleigh  was 
not  aware,  which  had  materially  accele- 
rated the  progress  of  the  man  of  trade 
to  wealth.  One  of  these  was,  the  great 
success    with  which    Mr.   Hanson   had 


24  CALTHORPE. 

contrived,  in  every  situation  in  life,  to 
administer  flattery  to  those  who  where 
his  superiors,  in  rank  or  fortune,  unre- 
strained by  that  pusillanimous  dread  of 
infringing  truth,  which  frequently  oper- 
ates to  the  prejudice  of  men  of  weaker, 
or  at  least,  of  differently  constructed 
minds.  This,  certainly,  cost  his  pride 
some  pangs,  which  he  would  wilHngly 
have  been  spared;  but  for  these  he 
took  excellent  care  to  indemnify  himself 
by  insolence,  to  those  who  were  not 
in  a  condition  to  resent  it.  But  what 
more  than  all  contributed  to  his  pre- 
sent greatness,  was,  his  marriage,  with 
his  present  lady. 

Mrs.  Hanson,  though,  she  might  be 
called  a  lady  of  high  birth,  if  it  were 
not  beneath  the  dignity  of  this  history, 
to  press  into  its  service  the  Joe  Mille?^ 
joke,  on  those  who  have  first  seen  the 
light  of  Heaven  in  a  garret,  was  of 
humble  origin.  Her  mother  was  a 
laundress,    and    in    her   younger   days, 


CALTHORPE.  '25 

the  daughter,  was  well  acquainted  with 
the     "  firstings    and    secondings,"    and 
other  interesting  processes,  to  which  cer- 
tain habiliments  must  be  subjected,  be- 
fore they    arrive  at  ^^ finishing  q^"  or 
"  rincing  out  ;^'  but   as  Miss  grew  up, 
the  increasing  respectability  and    com- 
fort, which  grew  on  her  parents'  frugality, 
and  industry,   soon  taught  the  blooming 
Jemima  Dabout,  to  look  above  a  washing- 
tub.     Nor  did  she  look  in  vain  ;  for  Mr. 
Deputy    Squaretoes   was     smitten   with 
her  youth  and  figure;  and,  after  a  brief 
courtship,  the  best  customer  of  the  mo- 
ther, (for  such  he    certainly    was,)  be- 
came the  husband  of  the  daughter.     He, 
to  be  sure,  was  more  than  suspected  of 
being  on  the  wrong  side  of  sixty;  she, 
little  more  than  seventeen  :  but  the  mar- 
riage was,    nevertheless,   a  very   happv 
one;    and    their   felicity  was    only   dis- 
turbed by  one  little  accident,   which,  at 
the  end  of  six  months,    drove  the  De- 
puty's gig,   "  full  bang  against  a  lamp 
VOL.  I.  c 


gS  GALTHORPE. 

post,**  as  the  lady  always  expressed  it, 
"  bumped  them  both  out  of  it,*'  extin- 
guished one  of  her  eyes,  and  sent  the 
Deputy,  —  so  all  his  friends  said,  and 
they  ought  to  know  best,  —*  to  a  much 
more  comfortable  world  than  this. 

A  widow  at  eighteen,  she  soon  began 
to  employ  her  remaining  eye,  in  look- 
ing for  a  fit  substitute  for  the  poor,  dear, 
dead  Deputy,  as,  with  affecting  alliteration, 
she  was  wont  to  call  him.  Having  given 
age,  in  the  first  instance  the  preference, 
she  thought  it  but  equitable,  that  youth 
should  now  be  blessed  with  her  charms  ; 
and  her  solitary  sparkler,  (widowed  like 
herself,)  bestowed,  one  day,  a  glance  of 
favour  on  the  principal  clerk  of  Messrs. 
Export  and  Riskall.  He  perceived  it ; 
and,  while  winding  up  her  late  husband's 
accounts,  made  good  use  of  the  lever, 
which  was  to  lift  his  fortune  to  its  pre- 
sent exaltation  —  flattery.  He  deplored 
the  death  of  his  dear  friend  the  De- 
puty, which,   he  remarked    was,    "  the 


CALTHORPE.  27 

more  afflicting^  as  it  separated  him  from 
his  most  interesting  wife."  Interesting 
was  an  excellent  preliminary  word. 
He  found  that  it  was  well  received,  and 
determined  to  go  on.  The  defection 
of  her  eye,  and  certain  scarifications, 
then,  but  imperfectly  healed,  w^ould 
have  deterred  a  young  practitioner  from 
saying  any  thing  on  the  subject  of  her 
face.  Mr.  Hanson,  however,  ventured 
a  panegyric  on  it.  The  experiment 
succeeded.  She  was  struck  with  his 
discernment;  and  he  now  grew  elo- 
quent in  praise  of  her  figure,  and 
was  absolutely  in  raptures,  when  he 
came  to  her  foot.  Her  vanity  was 
gratified;  and  she,  liking  the  flattery, 
persuaded  herself,  that  it  was  the  man 
she  admired,  and  to  wind  up  the  story 
after  a  little 

"  Sweet,  reluctant,  amorous  delay," 

she  again  wore  the  blushes  of  a  bride  ; 
and  the  thriving  Mr.  Hanson  succeeded, 
not  only  to  the  heart  of  the  Deputy's 
c  2 


28  CALTHORPE. 

widow,  but  to  his  seat  in  the  common- 
council. 

Fortune  continued  to  smile,  and  he 
outstripped  most  of  his  competitors  in 
trade.  Though  not  remarkably  intelli- 
gent where  matters  unconnected  with 
business  were  in  debate,  he  had  about 
him  a  bustling  air,  which  was  well 
calculated  to  make  ignorance  pass  for 
carelessness  :  he  soon  became  one  of  the 
most  eminent  speakers  at  Guildhall,  and 
no  patriotic  address  could  be  moved  with- 
out consulting  Mr.  Hanson. 

The  halo,  which  success  and  riches, 
commonly  throw  round  the  vulgar,  in- 
troduced him  and  his  lady  into  much 
good  company.  They  visited  those  who 
were  intimate  with  the  Burleighs,  and 
afterwards  the  Burleighs  themselves. 
The  latter  recognised  the  Hansons 
as  acquaintances,  and  the  Hansons 
every^ where  called  the  Burleighs  their 
friends.  From  the  society  in  which 
they  frequently  found  themselves,   they 

3 


CALTHORPE.  ^9 

acquired  exalted  notions  very  fast, 
and  the  washerwoman's  daughter  in  a 
short  time  disciplined  her  countenance 
into  perfect  serenity,  while  speaking 
with  contempt  of  people  of  "  no  family." 
On  the  morning  of  tlie  day  after  that 
which  brought  Mr.  Burleigh's  letter, 
w^hile  this  prosperous  couple  w^ere  at 
breakfast,  the  expected  visit  of  young 
Burleigh  became  the  subject  of  their  con- 
versation, and  they  discussed  the  views 
to  w^hich  the  prospect  of  a  more  intimate 
connection  w  ith  his  family  gave  rise,  in 
their  usual  way ;  that  is,  with  abundance 
of  tender  words,  but  not  with  all  that 
cordiality  of  feeling,  which  ought  to  have 
accompanied  them  to  give  them  value. 
In  the  great  council  of  the  nation,  each 
orator,  in  obedience  to  the  forms  of  the 
House,  describes  those  of  whom  he 
w^ould  speak,  as  the  **  Noble  Lord,"  and 
the  "  Honourable  Gentleman,"  though 
the  sole  object  of  his  harangue  is  to  prove 
them  ignoble  and  dishonourable.  With 
c  3 


30  CALTHORPE. 

inconsistency  not  less  striking  in  the 
Hanson  debates,  the  terms,  *'  my  love," 
and  ''  my  dear,"  were  bandied  backwards 
and  forwards  between  them,  when  the 
feelings  excited,  and  the  majority  of  the 
expressions  used,  had  no  affinity  to  that 
gentle  affection,  which  such  tender 
sounds,  uttered  with  other  looks  and 
gestures  might  have  seemed  to  indicate. 

"  My  dear,**  said  Mr.  Hanson,  speak- 
ing in  the  same  key  in  which  he  usually 
began  his  speeches  at  the  Common 
Council,  and  in  fact,  merely  using  the 
words  "  my  dear,"  as  substitutes  for 
"  my  Lord  Mayor" 

"  My  dear,  I  suppose  young  Burleigh 
will  be  here  this  morning." 

**  I  suppose  he  will,  my  love;  and 
what  then  ?  You  don't  expect,  I  hope, 
Mr.  Hanson,  that  I  should  put  myself 
much  out  of  the  way  on  his  account  ?" 

"  Why  no,  not  on  his  account  ex- 
actly, but  on  our  own  a  little,  my  dear  ; 
for  you  know  — " 


CALTHORPE.  31 

**  I  only  know  you  are  very  foolish, 
my  dear,  to  act  as  you  do.  Before  you 
asked  any  body  here,  you  might  have 
had  the  good  sense  to  consult  me." 

"  As  to  that,  my  love,  I  don't  know 
that  good  sense  could  in  any  case  have 
much  to  do  in  the  way  of  consulting 
you.  I  believe  1  know  how  to  regulate 
my  own  condufit." 

**  I  believe  you  know  how  to  make 
yourself  ridiculous,  my  love." 

"  Then  I  stand  in  no  need  of  assist- 
ance  from  you,  my  darling." 

This  sneer  threw  an  additional  brandy 
tint  into  the  blazing  face  of  Mrs.  Han- 
son ;  and  she  responded  with  appropriate 
energy  — 

"  If  you  are  going  to  blackguard  me, 
my  dear,  you  had  better  say  so  at  once. 
I  see  you  want  to  quarrel  with  me.  If 
you  don't  want  my  assistance  now,  I 
believe  you  had  some  occasion  for  it, 
when  I  condescended  to  marry  you,  my 
dear." 

c  4 


32  CALTHORPE. 

**  As  to  that,  my  love,  I  believe  your 

impatience  to  be  a  wife  again,  had  more 

influence    on    your   conduct    than   any 

thing  like   condescension.     You    know, 

whenever  I   saw  you,  there  was  always 

something  said  to  move  my  pity,  about 

*  the  advantages  people  take  where  there 

is  no  man,'  and  the  inability  of  *  a  lone 

woman  to  obtain  justice/*^* 

'    "  I  am  sure,   my  dear,  I  did  not  see 

my  own  interest,   when  I  married  Mr,. 

Hanson/* 

«  Very  well,  my  love,  have  it  all  your 
own  way.  I  can  only  say,  I  am  very 
sorry  that,  after  so  many  years  have 
passed,  you  should  now  discover,  that, 
when  I  paid  my  addresses  to  you,  I  got 
on  your  blind  side.^* 

The  last  words  added  fuel  to  fire, 
and  the  glowing  countenance  of  Mrs.. 
Hanson,  became  a  perfect  conflagra- 
tion. The  eye  which  had  escaped  the 
fatal  overthrow  of  the  deputy,  now 
beamed   on  his    representative    with    a 


CALTHdRPE.  83 

refulgence  very  different  from  that  with 
which  it  had  in  other  days,  cheered 
the  clerk  of  Messrs.  Export  and  Riskall. 
Had  the  flaming  fulmen  of  Jove  been 
entrusted  to  her  hand  in  that  terrible 
moment,  the  incensed  lady  would  not 
have  scrupled  to  hurl  it  at  the  head  of 
her  lord  and  master.  In  its  absence, 
she  availed  herself  of  a  cup  of  scalding 
coffee,  which  was  dispatched  with  all 
convenient  expedition,  to  pay  her  dutiful 
homage  to  the  orator.  He  saw  the 
danger,  and  one  of  those  ready  bows, 
>vhich  had,  in  other  instances,  essen- 
tially served  him,  was  of  prodigious  use 
on  the  present  occasion,  as  it  spared  his 
frontispiece  a  shock,  that  might  have 
reduced  the  stock  of  eyes  between  him 
and  his  loving  partner,  from  three  to 
two. 

««  Take  that,   my   dear,"   vociferated 

the  female  Cyclops,  as  the  minister  of 

Jier  wrath  quitted   her  hand,  to  shatter 

a  looking-glass  at  the  further  end  of  the 

c  5 


S%  CALTHORPE. 

room  y  **  I  see  you  are,  still  what  you 
were,  when  you  used  to  sweep  and  water 
Mr.  Dimity's  shop  of  a  morning.'' 

"  I  believe  you  are  a  devil  incarnate, 
my  love,"  he  exclaimed ;  and  would  pro- 
bably have  gone  on  for  some  minutes  in 
the  same  strain  of  dignified  eloquence, 
if,  unhappily,  while  stooping  to  avoid  tlie 
coffee,  the  tea  in  his  own  cup,  just  poured 
out  by  the  same  hand, — 

"  Warm  from  the  hand,  and  faithful  to  its  fires," 

had  not  passed  its  proper  limits,  invaded 
the  orator's  pantaloons,  and  compelled 
liim  to  rise,  and  attempt  to  shake  off 
what  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  finding 
its  way  to  his  person,  with  such  disorderly 
precipitation,  that,  with  the  exception  of 
a  few  interjections,  not  of  sufficient  value 
to  be  here  inserted,  he  could  not  give 
utterance  to  a  single  word.  He  at 
length  recovered  his  tongue,  and  re- 
sumed the  interrupted    oration.      The 


CALTHORPE.  3S 

lady,  who  knew  how  to  make  the  most 
of  her  eye,  and  had  succeeded  in  ob- 
taining from  it  a  very  decent  supply  of 
tears,  was  by  this  time  considering  of 
finishing  the  scene  with  a  fainting  fit, 
and  preparing  in  the  usual  way  for  that 
graceful  and  entertaining  exhibition, 
when  a  rattat  at  the  door  materially 
changed  the  face  of  things.  It  arrested 
the  Common-councilman's  flow  of  lan- 
guage ;  his  gentle  consort  postponed  her 
swoon,  and  in  a  tone  of  sorrowful  re- 
proof addressed  her  lord. 

"  There !  there !  Here  is  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh !  A  pretty  situation  he'll  find  us 
in !" 

"  Well,  it  is  all  your  own  doing,  my 
dear." 

"  My  doing !  It's  all  your  brutality,  my 
love." 

But,  considering  that  it  would  be  bet- 
ter to  repair,  or,  at  least,  to  endeavour  to 
conceal  the  evil,   than  to  descant  on  its 
cause  at  this  juncture,  she  hastily  left  her 
c  6 


€6  CALTHORPE. 

seat;  collected  the  scattered  fragments 
of  the  coiFee-cup,  and  the  fractured  glass, 
and  succeeded  in  depositing  them  be- 
hind the  sofa,  by  the  time  the  servant 
entered  with  information,  that  a  gentte- 
m an  had  called  to  enquire  if  young  Mr. 
Burleigh  could  be  seen  ;  and,  who  on 
learning  that  he  had  not  yet  arrived,  had 
left  a  note  for  him. 

Right  glad  were  both  the  belligerents 
to  find,  that  it  was  not  the  expected 
visitor,  and  that  they  had  time  to  finish 
their  quarrel.  The  masks  of  suavity 
and  good  will,  which  both  bad  assumed, 
were  promptly  discarded ;  Mrs.  Hanson 
did  not  subject  her  features  to  the  fatigue 
of  travelling  all  the  way  back  to  fury  ; 
but  tranquilly  suffered  their  expressions 
to  pause  at  scorn.  Her  husband,  (and 
the  tea,)  had  cooled  a  little,  and  his 
countenance  and  tone  had  descended 
from  rage,  and  w^ere  now  set  at  indignant 
expostulation.     He  began,  — 

**  It's  very  well  it  was  not  Mr.  Bur- 


CALTHORPE.  37 

leigh.  What  would  he  have  said  to  find 
us  in  such  a  situation.  I  wonder  how  you 
can  fly  off  in  such  a  way  about  nothing." 

"  About  nothing  ?  my  love  !  Do  you 
call  it  nothing  ?" 

"  If  you  had  but  heard  me  speak." 

"  Heard  you  speak  !"  returned  the 
lady,  turning  up  her  nose,  and  half  clos- 
ing her  eye. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  heard  me  speak.  I 
fancy,  'tis  pretty  well  known  that  I  can 
speak,  and  for  two  or  three  hours  to- 
gether, too." 

<*  You  might  keep  in  that  silly  boast, 
my  love.  I  thought  you  would  have  been 
sick  of  it,  after  the  epigram  they  made 
on  you  in  the  newspapers,  for  saying  the 
same  thing  at  Common-council. 

Hanson  declared,  that  well  he  knew, 
His  tongue  could  three  long  hours  run  : 

This  may  perhaps  be  very  true ; 
But  who  could  listen  to  him  one?** 

**  As  to  that,  my  dear,  I  am  not  aware 
that  there   was    any   occasion   for  your 


S®  CALTHORPE. 

taking  the  trouble  to  learn  off  the  wretch- 
ed jingle  you  have  just  repeated.  You 
never  knew  a  public  man  of  any  emi- 
nence, who  was  not  the  subject  of  hun- 
dreds of  such  paltry  squibs.  I  like  them, 
and  am  only  mortified  that  such  things 
do  not  appear  every  week  about  me." 

**  Indeed  ! — That  won't  go  down  witli 
me,  my  dear,  who,  for  a  fortnight  after  it 
came  out,  heard  nothing  but  ferocious 
blusterings  about  your  determination  to 
prosecute  the  villain." 

"  But  had  I  the  experience  then  that 
I  have  now  ? — I  have  since  put  the  as- 
sassin-like author  of  those  paltry  lines  to 
shame.  Did  I  not  speak  for  an  hour 
and  forty-three  minutes  on  moving  for  a 
Committee  to  enquire  into  the  state  of 
the  city  fire-plugs." 

**  Yes,  my  dear;  but,  at  last,  they 
threw  cold  water  on  your  fire-plugs, 
and  negatived  your  motion  without  a 
division." 

**  Whatever  you   may   say  now,   you 


CALTHORPE.  39 

held  your  head  up  high  enough  about  it 
at  the  time  ;  and,  at  the  Easter  ball,  did 
not  you  tell  me  yourself,  that  more  people 
were  eager  to  get  a  sight  of  the  lady 
of  Mr.  Deputy  Hanson,  than  of  the  Lady 
Mayoress  ?  —  But  why  did  you  not  hear 
me?  I  was  merely  going  to  tell  you 
what  my  views  were  with  respect  to 
young  Burleigh.  You  know  his  father 
:s  of  a  very  good  family,  and  though 
but  a  younger  brother,  and  formerly  little 
noticed  by  his  grand  relations,  he  has  now 
become  as  rich  as  a  Jew." 

**  Well,  I  know  all  that." 

"  Why  then  I  was  thinking  as  he 
wished  his  son  to  turn  his  thoughts  to 
commerce,  that  if  I  could  get  him  here, 
and  this  young  fellow  should  fall  in  love 
with  our  Alexandrina,  that  it  would  be  a 
very  good  match,  as  it  would  at  once 
connect  us  with  people  of  quality :  and 
that  is  not  all." 

"  What  else  then  ?" 

**  Why,  as  Burleigh  is  in  the  House  of 


^  CALTHORPE. 

Commons,  I  could  get  a  frank  or  an 
order  to  the  gallery  of  the  House,  at  any 
time  for  asking." 

"  Pooh  !  —  And  what  then  :  do  ladies 
ever  go  to  the  gallery?" 

"  No;  but  whenever  that  party,  of 
which  he  is  a  member,  and  a  most  im- 
portant one  too,  comes  into  power,  by 
moving  a  loyal  address,  or  something  of 
that  sort,  it  is  not  quite  impossible  that 
Mr.  Deputy  Hanson  might  kneel  down 
to  rise  up  Sir  Humphrey.  In  other  words, 
through  this  connection  I  may  get  created 
a  Baronet,    and  you   may  become  My 

A  new  light  broke  in  upon  Mrs.  Han- 
son, and  her  sparkler  again  shone  with 
the  lustre  of  approving  kindness.  She 
felt  a  little  embarrassed  at  the  course  she 
had  thought  fit  to  pursue,  now  that  she 
knew  what,  was  the  nature  of  the  com- 
munication which  the  Deputy  had  to 
make  ;  but,  to  confess  this,  and  to  own 
herself  in  the  wrong,  would  have  been  to 


CALTHORPE.  41 

take  a  step  wholly  inconsistent  with  her 
general  conduct  towards  her  husband. 
To  admit  for  a  moment  that  she  had 
been  in  error,  though  it  might  not  have 
lowered  her  much  in  Mr.  Hanson's  esti- 
mation, was  that  for  which  she  could 
never  have  pardoned  herself,  and  for 
which,  if  the  fact  had  in  any  way  tran- 
spired,  she  must  have  infallibly  received 
the  severest  censures  of  Lady  Snarl, 
Mrs.  Clatter,  and  the  rest  of  a  snug  little 
coterie,  of  which  Mrs.  Hanson  was  a 
member,  who  passed  their  winter-evenings 
in  what  is  considered  an  amicable  and 
friendly  manner,  — that  is,  in  quarrelling 
over  a  card- table ;  and  filled  up  their 
mornings  with  abuse  and  ridicule  of  each 
other. 

But,  though  to  retract  was  impossible, 
still  the  disposition  of  Mrs.  Hanson  was 
decidedly  pacific.  The  scheme  of  the 
Deputy  was  not,  in  her  opinion,  so 
ridiculous  as  many  that  she  had  known 
him  to  form  j  and  the  title  of  My  Lady, 


4^  CALTHORPE. 

she  was  quite  sure,  would  become  her 
exceedingly.  Then  the  union  Mr.  Han- 
son had  projected  was  perfectly  unex- 
ceptionable,  provided  it  took  place  at  a 
distant  period.  Alexandrina  was  almost 
seventeen  ;  an  age  which  her  mother, 
like  most  young  ladies,  had  formerly  held 
to  be  quite  sufficient  to  qualify  a  female 
for  the  holy  state.  But  experience  had 
enUghtened  Mrs.  Hanson,  and  she  was 
now  no  friend  to  such  early  marriages. 
In  fact,  as  her  figure  and  foot  retained 
much  of  their  original  beauty,  and  her 
face  was  but  little  the  worse  for  wear, 
she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  plead 
guilty  to  more  than  thirty,  and  the  im- 
mediate appearance  of  Miss  Alexandrina 
in  the  character  of  a  wife,  would  have 
been  rather  at  variance  with  her  reckon- 
ing ;  and  Mrs.  Hanson  had  so  much  self- 
eommand,  that  she  felt  little  impatience 
to  be  greeted  with  the  endearing  title  of 
"  Grand-mamma.'* 

Having  determined  upon  peace,  the 


CALTHORPE.       *  4S 

lady  began  to  **  back  out,"  as  the  phrase 
is,  by  enquiring  why  the  statement  of  the 
Deputy  had  not  been  made  at  once,  as 
that  would  have  prevented  words.  Mr. 
Hanson  admitted  this,  but  threw  the 
blame  on  her  impatience,  which  had  in- 
terrupted him ;  and  she  forthwith  trans- 
ferred it  to  his  awkward  circumlocution. 
In  fine,  not  to  follow  them  through  their 
efforts  to  trace  the  genealogy  of  their 
rupture,  and  their  bickerings  on  the  sub- 
ject of  its  origin,  they,  at  length,  came 
to  a  perfect  understanding  on  the  main 
point,  —  that  it  was  their  interest  to  re- 
ceive young  Burleigh  with  all  possible 
distinction  ;  and,  their  faces  graced  with 
courteous  smiles,  they  now  serenely 
awaited  his  arrival. 


44'  CALTHORPE. 


CHAP.  III. 


"  This  I  dare  boldly  tell, 
*Tis  50  like  truth  'twill  serve  our  turn  as  well." 

/  Cowley. 


A  THUNDERING  knock  was  heard  below* 

"  There  he  is !"  said  Mrs.  Hanson. 

"  Zounds !  what  a  stunner  he  has 
given  the  door,"  exclaimed  the  Common- 
councilman.  <'  You  may  perceive  the 
pride  of  family  at  his  finger's  ends." 

"  Hush  !  here  he  is." 

The  door  opened,  and  forthwith  en- 
tered, not  Henry  Burleigh,  but  Miss 
Alexandrina  Grabwell  Hanson.  Her 
father,  intent  upon  putting  all  the  ma- 
chinery of  his  plan  in  motion  at  once, 
had  caused  her  to  be  brought  from  a 
boarding-school  at  Holloway  that  morn- 
ing,  while   he  was  unfolding  his  great 


CALTHORPE.  45 

designs.  That  he  should  have  taken 
such  a  step  on  his  own  responsibility, 
would  have  been  the  subject  of  a  very 
serious  enquiry  in  a  common  way  ;  but 
fraught  as  their  minds  were,  at  this  junc- 
ture, with  grand  speculations,  the  usual 
forms  were  not  strictly  attended  to  ;  and 
the  lady,  finding  herself  sufficiently  re- 
freshed by  the  exercise  which  she  had 
already  taken,  judged  it  unnecessary  to 
seek  any  more  that  morning,  or  econo- 
mically reserved  this  new  offence  for  a 
future  day,  when  other  topics  should 
fail. 

"  Ah  mamma !  I  hope  you  are  well, 
mamma.  How  do  you  do,  pa  ?"  said  Alex- 
andrina. 

The  father  and  mother  greeted  the 
daughter  with  the  customary  expressions 
and  kiss  of  kindness. 

"  But,  pa,  how  came  you  to  send  for 
me  home  in  such  a  hurry  ?  I  thought  I 
was  not  to  leave  school  till  midsummer." 

**  Why,  my  dear,  I  thought  you  would 


46  CALTHORPE. 

like  a  holiday,  and  as  we  are  going  to 
have  company,  I  determined  to  let  you 
come  home  a  little  sooner." 

"  Who  is  coming,  then  ?'* 

**  Young  Mr.  Burleigh  is  about  to  pay 
us  a  visit.  You  remember  him,  of  course. 
He  is  a  very  handsome  young  man ; 
and  you  know  he  is  rich.'* 

'*  I  don't  remember  much  of  him." 

"  O,  you  sly  hussey  !"  exclaimed  the 
mother.  "  What,  you  pretend  you  never 
took  any  particular  notice  of  him,  do 
you?  Now  don't  try  to  deceive  me. 
Tell  the  truth  my  dear.  '  Tl>e  truth  may 
be  blamed,  but  it  can't  be  shamed!* 
Always  remember  that.  Tell  me,  —  now 
speak  sincerely  ;  —  did  you  not  think  him 
a  very  fine  young  fellow,  when  you 
danced  with  him  at  Mrs.  Jiggle's  ball." 

**  He's  very  well." 

**  What,  only  very  well.  In  a  year  or 
two  you  will  think  him  more  than  very 
well,  or  I  am  much  mistaken,"  said  Mr. 


CALTHORPE.  47 

Hanson,  with  one  of  his  most  significant 
shakes  of  the  head. 

**  It  won't  be  the  iirst  time  you  have 
been  mistaken,  pa,"  replied  Miss  Alex- 
andrina,  archly  glancing,  first  at  him  and 
then  at  mamma,  and  finally  indulging  in  a 
laugh  aside. 

**  He  is  arrived  now,  I  believe,"  cried 
Mr.  Hanson. 

"  La,  my  dear !  how  can  you  be  so 
ridiculous  ?  That  was  only  a  single 
knock." 

"  1  suppose  it  was  the  porter  that 
carries  his  portmanteau ;  for  I  hear 
something  like  luggage  being  put  down 
in  the  entry." 

"  Here  the  bell  rung.    This  was  a  signal 
that  Mr.  Hanson  was  wanted. 

"  There,  my  dear,  you  see  it  is  as  I 
said  :  now  who  was  ridiculous  !" 

With  these  words,  he  made  a  trium- 
phant exit. 

"  I  think,"  said  Alexandrina,  pa  looks 
remarkably  well." 


48  CALTHORPE. 

"  Yes  my  dear,  he  was  never  better  in 
his  life,  thank  God.  But,  indeed,  nothing 
ever  ails  him  :  he  has  a  remarkably  good 
state  of  health." 

"  Dear  me,  mamma,  you  have  broken 
your  nice  new  looking  glass  ;  what  a  pity ! 
How  did  it  happen  ?" 

"  Why,  my  dear,  it  —  the  sofa  was 
out  of  repair,  so  we  ordered  Mr.  Trum- 
pery to  send  for  it  and  mend  it,  and  his 
awkward  journeyman,  when  it  was  brought 
home,  stupidly  knocked  one  of  the  feet 
against  the  glass." 

The  father  now  came  in. 

"  Well,  was  it  Mr.  Burleigh  ?" 

"  No,  but"  — 

"  Now  who  was  ridiculous  ?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Hanson  ?" 

*'  But  it  was  well ;  I  told  Tom  always 
to  ring  for  me  when  any  presents  came* 
A  rascal  wanted  a  couple  of  shillings  for 
bringing  a  hamper  from  the  White  Horse; 
Fetter-lane,  but  1  presently  made  him 
glad  to  take  eighteen-pence." 


CALTHORPE.  4Q 

"  What  presents  are  they  ?" 

<«  Some  game,  or  poultry,  or  something 
of  that  sort,  from  Warwick." 

**  What !  from  Mrs. Shark,  the  attorney's 
wife  ?  I  wish  her  presents  at  the  bottom 
of  the  sea.  I  suppose  she  has  sent  me  a 
hare,  as  old  as  Aldgate,  or  some  of  her 
barn-door  fowls,  as  she  calls  them,  with 
their  bones  sticking  through  their  skins.'* 

*<  Well,  hang  it,  they're  worth  the  car- 
riage." 

"  Worth  the  carriage  !  Why,  really,  you 
talk  like  an  idiot,  my  love !  Don't  you 
see  I  must  go  down  to  Billingsgate  my- 
self; for  if  I  send  any  body  else  I  shall  be 
made  to  pay  through  the  nose,  to  buy  her 
a  salmon,  or  a  turbot,  to  send  in  return  j 
or  else  we  shall  be  talked  about  as  not 
being  like  other  people." 

*<  It's  unpleasant,  certainly,  my  dear." 

"  Unpleasant!  I  wish  you  had  the 
trouble  of  it,  my  dear,  and  then  you'd  say^ 


so." 


•'  But,  how^ever,  it  can't  be  helped." 

VOL.  I.  D 


do  CALTHORPE. 

"  No ;  but  its  very  provoking.  Now  I 
suppose  in  a  month  or  two  she'll  be  com- 
ing to  I/ondon  to  pay  us  a  visit ;  and  of 
course  we  may  expect  that  she'll  not 
leave  behind  that  howling,  ugly,  pug- 
nosed  little  Bill.  I  am  sure  we  had  quite 
enough  of  them  last  year.  That  brat,  is 
the  greatest  nuisance  that  ever  came  into 
a  house.  My  fingers  itched  to  beat  him 
all  the  time  he  was  here." 

"  She  don't  say  any  thing  about  com- 
ing." 

<^  No ;  we  shall  have  to  pay  the  post- 
age of  another  letter,  to  tell  us  that." 

•*  You  will  answer  her  letter,  my  love  ?" 

"I  suppose  I  must.  Yes,  I'll  write  to 
her  directly  to  tell  her  we  are  going  out 
of  town,  that  she  may  not  think  of  com- 
ing here." 

"  Shall  I  write  for  you,  ma?" 

*'  Aye,  do,  my  dear. — I'll  tell  you  what 
to  say ;  but  be  quick,  that  we  may  get  it 
out  of  the  way  before  Mr.  Burleigh 
comes." 


CALTHORPE.  51 

Alexandrina,  having  opened  the  desk, 

selected  a  pen,  and  spread  out  her  paper, 

signified  that  she   was   ready  to  begin. 

Mrs.  Hanson  then  dictated  as  follows  :  — 

"  My  dear  madam  ; 

"  Mr.  Hanson  and  myself  beg  to  re- 
turn you  our  best  thanks,  for  your  very 
acceptable  present,  and  request  your  ac- 
ceptance''— 

•*  Of  what,  mamma?'*  — 

"  Leave  a  blank  there,  Alexandrina  ; 
as  I  don't  know  yet  what  I  can  get.  Now 
go  on."  — 

**  All  that  you  were  so  good  as  to  send, 
proved  delicious.  I  am  afraid  you  will  not 
be  able  to  say  so  much  of  the  trifles  now 
forwarded  to  you.  We  are  delighted  to 
hear  you  are  all  well."  — 

"  No,"  interrupted  Mr.  Hanson,  "  that 
wont  do;  Shark  is  laid  up  with  the  gout." 

It  would  be  no  great  matter  if  he  were 
in  the  church-yard,  that  I  know  of.  Go 
on,  Alexandrina." 

''  Except  Mr.  Shark,  who,  we  sincerely 
D  2 

U,  OF  ILL.  LlD. 


5S  CALTHORPE. 

hope,  will  shortly  recover.  Kiss  your 
sweet  William  for  me.  For  a  long  while 
after  you  left  us,  we  were  quite  lost  with- 
out him.  We  should  hope  to  have  the 
happiness  of  seeing  the  dear  engaging 
little  cherub/??2  again,  with  yourself,  in 
the  course  of  the  summer,  but  the  state 
of  Mr.  Hanson's  health  is  such,  that  by 
advice  of  his  physician,  he  is  obliged  to 
go  to  the  coast,  and  we  accompany  him. 
He,  and  Alexandrina  desire  their  kindest 
remembrance  to  you,  Mr.  Shark,  and  all 
the  little  Sharks,  and  hoping,  before  many 
months  have  elapsed,  that  we  shall  have 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  all  in  London. 
"  I  remain,  my  dearest  Madam, 
"  Your's  most  affectionately, 

"  Jemima  Hanson." 

"  Well  but,  mamma,"  said  Alexandrina, 
"  you  told  me  pa  was  never  better  in  his 
life?" 

«  Well !" 

"  But  in  the  letter  you  tell  Mrs.  Shark 
that  he  is  so  ill,  that  his  physician  has 


CALTHORPE.  53 

ordered  him  to  the  coast,  for  the  benefit 
of  his  health." 

**  Pooh,  pooh !  the  girl  is  a  simple- 
ton!  Why  that's  only  a  civil  way  of 
teUing  her  she  must  not  come  here  for  a 
month.  Nothing  is  ever  the  matter  with 
your  pa," 

"  No,  nothing  is  ever  the  matter  with 
me,  according  to  your  account,  my  dear  j" 
said  Mr.  Hanson. 

"  Except  your  ill  humours,  my  love." 

"  But  my  ill  humours  don't  carry  me 
quite  so  far,  my  dear,  as  yours  did  this 
morning,  when  you  threw  the  cup  of 
scalding  hot  coffee  at  my  head,  and 
broke  the  new  looking  glass." 

"  O  then,"  said  Alexandrina,  "  that 
was  the  way  the  looking  glass  got  broke." 

"  You're  a  ninny,  my  love,'*  observed 
Mrs.  Hanson,  addressing  her  husband, 
"  to  let  that  out.  I,  wishing  to  spare 
you,  had  accounted  for  that  accident  in 
another  way  to  Alexandrina." 

**  To  spare  me !     Come,  that's  a  good 
D  3 


54  cAlthorp:e. 

one,   however !     Whose  fault  was  it,   i 
should  like  to  know  ?" 

"  Why  your's  ;  and  you  know  it. 
Did  you  not  use  me  like  a  brute,  my 
dear  ;  nay,  worse  ?" 

"  But  did  not  you '* 

"  What,  you're  going  on  again  I 
Since  you  provoke  me,  the  truth  shall 
come  out ;  and  then  what  will  your 
daughter  say  ?" 

"  The  truth  may  be  blamed,  but  it 
can't  be  shamed,'*  said  Alexandrina  ; 
affecting  great  simplicity,  but  intending 
to  be  sarcastic. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  continued  the 
mother,  "  your  papa  used  me  in  such  a 
manner  —  (but  you  know  what  a  man  he 
is)  —  that  I  was  obliged  to  throw  my 
coffee-cup  at  him  in  self-defence." 

"Opapa!" 

««  If  I  did  say  any  thing  unpleasant, 
what  first  caused  the  quarrel  came  from 

your  mother.     Why  she  told  me " 

Here  the  lady  raised  her  voice  j  her 


CALTHORPE.  55 

daughter  began  to  cry  ;  and  the  deputy,  as 
much  confounded  as  he  had  sometimes 
been  in  the  court  of  common-council, 
when  the  sages  around  him  chose  to 
roar  "  Question,  question,"  in  the  best 
part  of  his  speech,  was  soon  brought 
to  a  stand,  and  glad  to  get  out  of  his 
present  situation,  with  the  remark,  — 

"  But  ^tis  of  no  use  to  rip  up  old 
grievances." 

*<  Then  why  do  you  rip  them  up  ?" 
enquired  the  lady.  **  Pray  who  began 
it?" 

«  Why  you  did." 

"  O  you  wicked  man !  There,  Alex- 
andrina;  you  hear  what  your  pa  says. 
Now  what  do  you  think  ?" 

The  struggle  against  the  reputation  of 
priority  in  the  dispute  was  maintained 
with  great  vivacity  on  both  sides,  each 
yielding  precedence  to  the  other  with 
more  earnestness  than  good  will  or  good 
manners,  till  Mr.  Hanson  judged  it  wise 
to  retreat. 

D  4 


56  CALTHORPE. 

When  he  had  left  the  room,  the  ma- 
ternal love  of  Mrs.  Hanson  thought  the 
present  a  fit  opportunity  to  impress  on 
the  daughter,  the  importance  of  paying 
the  most  scrupulous  attention  to  truth. 

*'  You  see,  Alexandrina,"  said  she, 
«  what  a  shocking  thing  it  is  for  people 
to  let  their  tongues  run  on  without  car- 
ing what  they  say.  What  a  parcel  of 
stories  has  your  pa  told  this  morning ! 
Eut  what  good  can  come  of  it  after  all  ? 
None.  I  always  said,  and  will  still  main- 
tain, that  the  truth  in  the  end  is  most  ad- 
vantageous.    In  short, " 

"  The  truth  may  be  blamed,  but  it 
can't  be  shamed,"  Alexandrina  added, 
endeavouring  to  anticipate  one  sentence 
of  the  lecture. 

"  Right,  my  dear  ;  I'm  very  glad  you 
have  not  forgotten  that.  But,  hark ! 
What  noise  did  1  hear  ?" 

*«  A  knock  at  the  door,  mamma.'' 

"  Was  it? — Hush!  —  Listen  who  it 
is.     Do  you  hear  any  name  mentioned  ?'' 


CALTHORPE.  5? 

"  Mr.  Henry  Burleigh." 

"  O,  he's  come  then  at  last.  We  must 
mind  what  we  say  before  him,  as  your 

father ;   but  I'll  tell  you   another 

time." 

"  My  father  is  speaking  to  him,  and 
they  are  now  coming  up  stairs." 

"  Not  a  word,  my  dear,  about  the 
quarrel  this  morning.  We  must  not  suf- 
fer him  to  know  any  thing  about  our 
little  bickerings.  Be  sure  you  don't  let 
any  thing  out  that  we  ought  to  keep  to 
ourselves,  as  your  pa  does  sometimes. 
If  the  shattered  glass  should  ever  be 
mentioned,  be  sure  to  bear  in  mind  that 
it  was  broken  by  the  leg  of  the  sofa." 

"  Yes,  mamma." 

So  ended  the  morning's  lesson. 


D  & 


58  CALTHORPE. 


CHAP.  IV. 


'*  Love  !  if  love's  angel  name  be  gives 

To  the  hot  fury  of  the  breast, 
That  fears  no  hell — and  hopes  no  heaven 

But  that  which  tires  its  lust  to  rest. 
And  is  this  love  ?  and  does  there  live 

Bold  blasphemy,  that  dares  to  name 
The  furnace  heat  its  firebrands  give. 

And  seraph  love's  soft  warmth  the  same  !" 

Philibert. 

We  ought  before  to  have  taken  some 
notice  of  the  day,  which  immediately  pre- 
ceded that  on  which  Henry  left  Rich- 
Biond.  Its  history  is  not  wholly  unim- 
portant, and  shall  therefore  be  laid  before 
the  reader  without  further  delay. 

On  that  day  Sir  James  Denville  made 
proposals  in  form  to  Mr.  Burleigh  for  the 
liand  of  his  daughter.  Harriet,  though 
but  seventeen,  was  tall,  but  at  the  same 
time  graceful;  and  if  not  a  perfect 
beauty,  she  was  so  little  deficient,  that 


CALTHORPE.  59 

the  male  part  of  Mr.  Burleigh's  acquaint- 
ance with  one  voice  pronounced  her  to 
be  a  charming  girl;  and  the  most  scru- 
tinising  critic  of  the  other  sex  did  not 
scruple  to  admit  that  she  was  **  very  well." 

Sir  James  Denville  was  a  baronet  of 
high  pretensions  as  to  family.  His 
estates  were  ample,  but  the  excesses  of 
his  youth  had  thrown  him  into  embarrass- 
ments, from  which  he  could  only  be  ex- 
tricated by  the  judicious  advice,  and  as- 
sistance of  Mr.  Burleigh.  For  this  im- 
portant service  he  expressed  the  most  un- 
bounded gratitude  ;  and  Mr.  Burleigh  at 
once  exulted  in  having  saved  his  friend 
from  ruin,  and  reclaimed  him  from  vice. 
A  year  or  two  promised  to  relieve  him 
from  nearly  all  his  difficulties,  and  a  long 
and  happy  career  seemed  to  lie  before 
him. 

He  was  now  closing  his  thirty-eighth 
year,  when  the  charms  of  Harriet  Bur- 
leigh arrested  his  attention.     Little  ac- 
customed to  restrain  his  desires,  with  him, 
D  6 


60  CALTHORPE. 

to  see  and  to  admire,  was  to  determine  to 
possess.  By  every  means  in  his  power 
he  sought  to  win  her  affections,  but  he 
failed.  His  fine  person,  which  had  en- 
abled him  to  accompHsh  the  ruin  of  many 
an  unsuspecting  beauty,  made  no  im- 
pression on  the  present  object  of  his  love. 
Though  neither  blind  to  his  attractions, 
nor  silent  on  his  accomplishments,  Har- 
riet was  unmoved  by  his  addresses,  and 
her  heart  revolted  from  the  homage  which 
he  was  solicitous  to  offer.  Neither  the 
splendour  of  his  connections,  nor  the  ex- 
tent of  his  domains,  could  prevail  on  her 
reason  to  revoke  its  first  decision. 

Though  foiled  in  his  efforts  to  gain  her 
love.  Sir  James  did  not  despair  of  obtain- 
ing her  hand  5  and  he  had  become  en- 
amoured of  her  person  to  such  a  degree, 
that,  provided  he  could  secure  that  in  the 
first  instance,  he  was  content  to  wait  for 
love  to  follow.  Before  speaking  to  her 
father,  he  could  have  wished  to  be  en- 
abled to  say,  that  pleading  for  his  own 
passion,    he    pleaded    also    for  that  of 


CALTHORPE.  6l 

Harriet.  But  since  this  could  not  be  ac- 
complished, his  resolution  was  taken  to 
obtain  the  consent  of  her  father  to  their 
marriage,  and  obedience  to  his  mandate 
would,  he  flattered  himself,  incline  her 
to  view  him  with  favour,  for  which,  till 
now,  he  had  sued  in  vain.  He  in  conse- 
quence  requested  a  private  interview  with 
Mr.  Burleigh,  made  known  his  wishes, 
and  solicited  the  consent  of  his  friend  to 
the  union  which  he  contemplated. 

]\Ir.  Burleigh  was  not  taken  by  sur- 
prise. He  had  remarked  the  attentions 
of  Sir  James,  and  thought  it  right  to  as- 
certain what  were  the  sentiments  which 
they  had  inspired.  The  result  need  not 
be  stated. 

To  the  proposal  made  by  the  Baronet, 
Mr.  Burleigh  replied  by  expressing  his 
sense  of  the  high  honour  of  an  alliance 
with  his  family ;  but  in  the  present  in- 
stance he  doubted  whether  the  wishes  of 
Sir  James  could  ever  be  carried  into 
effect.  Though  the  difference  in  years 
was  considerable,  it  was  not  so  great,  but 


62  CALTHORPE. 

instances  might  be  referred  to  that  would 
seem  in  favour  of  such  an  union  j  yet  he 
could  not  augur  well  of  it,  unless  both 
parties  were  equally  anxious  that  it 
should  take  place.  For  Harriet,  he  con- 
sidered her  to  be  too  young  at  present, 
to  contract  a  marriage  under  any  circum- 
stances, and  he  could  wish,  till  she  was 
more  competent  to  judge  for  herself, 
that  no  attempt  should  be  made  to  in- 
fluence her  determination. 

"  But,  my  dear  Sir,"  cried  Sir  James, 
"can  you  so  undervalue  your  own  sagacity, 
as  to  believe  that  she  will  ever  be  more  ca- 
pable of  forming  a  sound  judgment  on  a 
question  of  such  im.portance,  than  you 
are  at  this  moment.  Your  will  is  her  law, 
and  it  is  but  for  you  to  point  out  the 
course  her  affections  ought  to  take,  to 
make  them  flow  in  the  direction  which 
her  interest  and  her  duty  unite  to  recom- 
mend." 

"  I  know  not  that,  Sir  James.  The 
heart,  where  love  is  concerned,  is  fre- 
quently found  in  arms  against  reason." 


CALTKORPE.  63 

"  Then  would  not  authority  be  well 
exerted  to  repress  the  insurgent  feelings, 
before  they  acquire  sufficient  force,  suc- 
cessfully to  oppose  the  decision  of  wis- 
dom r' 

"  No,  Sir  James.  That  authority 
which  is  exerted  to  drive,  where  advice 
cannot  direct,  rarely  fails  to  produce 
misery  to  all  parties.  When  young,  I 
enjoyed  the  delightful  privilege  of  choos- 
ing for  myself.  That  I  did  so,  unin- 
fluenced by  what  the  world  called  inte- 
rest, or  by  ambition,  has  to  me  proved 
the  source  of  many  years  of  felicity;  and 
my  head  would  not  rest  serenely  on  its 
pillow,  if  I  were  to  deny  my  children  the 
same  chance  for  happiness  which  I  had,  and 
the  consequences,  of  which,  I  still  enjoy." 

"  But  surely,  Sir,  my  rank  in  society, 
and  my  fortune,  are  as  high  as  even  your- 
self could  desire  your  child  to  look  ?" 

"  They  are;  and  such  as  would  justify 
you  in  seeking  a  more  elevated  alliance." 

"  But  still  you  seem  to  think  them  not 
sufficient  for  you  ?" 


64  CALTHORPE. 

"  You  mistake  me,  Sir  James.  Believe 
me,  I  view  the  offer  you  have  just  made, 
as  an  act  of  condescension  on  your  part  5 
but  really  I  think  Harriet  too  young  to 
become  a  wife ;  and  when  this  objection 
shall  vanish,  it  will  still  be  my  earnest 
wish  to  follow,  rather  than  to  direct  her 
choice." 

"  Do  you  then  refuse  ?"  - 
"  Refuse  sounds  harshly  —  1  merely 
withhold  my  consent.    Time  may  possibly 
remove  my  objections." 

"  You  have  objections  then  ?" 
"  I  certainly  have  objections  to  — " 
"  My  character.  —  Is  it  not  so  ?'* 
While  speaking,  his  eye  shot  a  glance 
of  rage  on  the  father  of  Harriet,  who, 
astonished  at  his  altered  manner,  paused 
for  a  moment  before  he  could  reply.  — 
The  Baronet  went  on  — 

"  A  new  light  breaks  in  upon  me.     I 
see  it  all.     She  flies  me  —  she  fears  me, 
she  abhors  me,  and  t/ou  are  the  cause." 
**Nay  J  hear  me,  Sir  James"  — 


CALTHORPE.  65 

"  Fool  that  I  was,"  he  continued, 
"  not  to  perceive  it  before  !  She  has  been 
made  acquainted  with  the  errors  of  my 
youth  by  you,  to  whom  they  were  com- 
municated in  confidence." 

"  The  charge  is  unjust.  The  errors  of 
your  youth  are,  I  trust,  gone  for  ever, 
with  the  days  of  your  youth.  By  me  they 
have  never  been  imparted  to  any  one  ; 
and  I  think  there  are  circumstances  con- 
nected with  my  conduct  towards  you,  (to 
which  I  will  not  more  distinctly  allude,) 
which  ought  to  prove  me  any  thing,  but 
the  enemy  of  your  happiness." 

"  That  is  true.  —  I  beg  your  pardon, 
my  dear  Burleigh.  Yes,  you  have  been 
my  best  friend.  You  saved  me  from 
ruin." 

**  Say  nothing  of  that." 

"  You  rescued  me  from  the  villanous 
banditti,  who  would  have  made  me  their 
victim.  You  alone  enabled  me  to  escape." 

**  I  merely  accelerated  the  moment  of 
reflection.     Your  own  good  sense  could 


66  CALTHORPE. 

not  have  failed  to  recall  you  from  the  dan- 
gerous path,  you  in  an  evil  hour  had  ven- 
tured to  tread.  Matured  reason,  and 
your  strength  of  mind,  were  more  than 
sufficient  to  warn  you  from  the  haunts  of 
gamblers/* 

The  Baronet  looked  stedfastly  at  Mr. 
Burleigh,  as  if  doubting  that  he  had  ex- 
pressed his  real  sentiments.  After  a 
pause,  he  coldly  replied  — 

**  You  think  too  favourably  of  me,  and 
undervalue  your  own  kindness." 

**  I  speak  but  as  I  think.  To  retrieve 
your  affairs  —  to  bury  the  past  in  obli- 
vion, it  was  only  necessary  to  avoid  those 
whom  you  knew  would  betray  you  to 
your  ruin.'* 

Sir  James  seemed  uneasy.  Again  the 
features  of  Mr,  Burleigh  underwent  a 
scrutiny  while  he  uttered  the  words, 

«  Indeed  !  was  that  all  ?'* 

**  So  it  appeared  to  me  ;  and  in  that 
instance  I  am  not  aware  that  you  have 
found  cause  to  doubt  my  judgment.'* 


CALTHORPE.  67 

"  None,  by  Heaven  V  he  exclaimed, 
in  a  solemn  tone  ;  "I  have  abundant 
reasons  for  believing  that  the  judgment 
was  a  sound  one." 

"  I  rejoice  that  you  profited  by  it." 

*'  Thank  you,  Sir ;  thank  you  ;"  said 
the  baronet,  attentively  surveying  the 
tranquil  countenance  of  his  friend. 
"  And  yet  how  have  I  profited  1  Where 
is  the  importance  of  saving  a  few  value- 
less thousands,  if  these  cannot  be  made 
conducive  to  happiness  ?*' 

*'  But  why  should  they  not  ?  What 
prevents  them  from  contributing  to  your 
comfort  ?" 

"  Ask  yourself  that  question.  My 
heart  is  fixed  on  your  daughter;  I 
honourably  propose  for  her  ;  and  what  is 
the  result  ?  Despised  or  detested  for 
my  former  irregularities,  the  mark  of 
proscription  is  set  on  me.  I  become  an 
object  of  suspicion,  and  see  myself  stu- 
diously avoided  by  Harriet,  and  serenely 
rejected  by  you." 


68  CALTHORPE. 

<'  Really,  Sir  James,  you  mistake." 

"  Would  that  the  useless  treasure  — 
the  worthless  acres  —  the  gaudy  man- 
sions that  are  said  to  be  mine,  were  in 
the  bottomless  pit,  rather  than  that  I 
should  thus  be  viewed  as  the  possessor  of 
the  materials  for  happiness,  without  the 
means  of  deriving  enjoyment  from  them. 
Why  has  malignant  destiny  set  me  up  a 
mark  for  envy,  while  she  has  made  me 
so  wretched,  that,  seen  as  I  am,  I  should 
be  an  object  of  compassion?'* 

"  Subdue  these  vain  repinings.  Do 
you  complain  that  every  thing  yields  not 
to  your  will ;  you,  who  would  have  me 
act  the  despot  over  the  inclinations  of 
my  daughter,  and  deny  her  the  right  of 
exercising  her  own  reason,  at  the  most 
interesting  and  most  important  period  of 
her  life." 

"  But  why  should  her  own  reason,  if 
wholly  uninfluenced  by  the  advice  of 
others,  thus  oppose  itself  to  my  happi- 
ness?" 


CALTHORPE.  69 

'*  The  heart,  Sir  James,  you  have  not 
to  learn,  is  more  frequently  swayed  by 
the  impulse  of  strong  feeling  than  by 
the  cool  calculations  of  reason." 

"  I  am  persuaded,"  replied  the  baro- 
net, "  that  habitual  obedience  to  you 
would  induce  Harriet  at  once  to  look 
with  favour  on  me,  if  such  were  your 
mandate ;  and  persevering  attention 
would  soon  warm  respect  into  esteem, 
and  ripen  esteem  into  love.  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh, I  am  no  sordid  lover  ;  give  your 
daughter  to  me,  and  I  ask  no  fortune 
with  her.  Far  from  seeking  this,  besides 
renouncing  whatever  might  belong  to 
her,  I  will  engage  to  settle  on  your  son 
a  sum  equal  to  its  amount,  and  procure 
his  return  for  a  borough  the  moment  he 
comes  of  age." 

"  If  you.  Sir  James,  are  no  sordid 
lover,  do  me  the  justice  to  believe  that  I 
am  not  a  mercenary  father ;  and  if  our 
friendship  is  to  continue,  never,  never  let 
this  proposition  be  repeated.     I  think  I 


70  CALTHORPE. 

am  neither  ambitious  nor  avaricious,  and 
if  I  were  both,  I  hope  that  I  should  pos- 
sess too  much  pride,  if  not  too  much 
feeling,  to  forward  my  own  private  views 
by  the  means  you  suggest.  I  desire  no 
wealth,  no  honours,  for  myself  or  for 
my  son,  of  which  the  immolation  of 
a  daughter's  happiness  must  pay  the 
price/' 

"  There,  again  !     The  immolation  of 
her  happiness  you  regard  as  the  natural, 
the  inevitable  consequence,  of  her  union 
with  me." 

**  To  imagine  this,  is  to  think  too 
meanly  of  yourself.  The  sentiment  I 
have  just  expressed,  which,  while  I  have 
life,  I  never  shall  disavow,  applies  to 
every  man  in  the  creation  as  much  as  to 
you." 

"  But  it  has  been  suggested,  by  my 
offering  to  pay  my  addresses  to  your 
daughter." 

**  No ;  it  was  suggested  by  the  mo- 
mentary lapse  in  which  you  did  yourself 


CALTHORPE.  71 

and  me  the  injustice  to  suppose  that  your 
wishes  might  be  accomplished  without 
first  obtaining  the  consent  of  their  ob- 
ject.'' 

"  When  that  consent  is  obtained,  may  I 
calculate  that  1  shall  meet  with  no  oppo- 
sition from  you  ?  Do  you  make  me  that 
promise?" 

"  Surely,"  replied  Mr.  Burleigh,  "  it 
would  now  be  premature  to  promise  any 
thing.  When  that  which  you  contemplate 
shall  have  been  effected,  it  will  then  be 
sufficiently  early,  to  take  into  consider- 
ation the  question  on  which  you  would 
have  my  decision." 

*'  Do  you  think  so  meanly  of  me,  then, 
that  you  will  not  promise  even  what  I 
now  presume  to  hope  ?" 

**  Sir  James,  I  hold  a  promise  sacred ; 
and  my  professional  habits  have  made 
me  but  too  well  acquainted  with  the 
fatal  effects  of  promises  rashly  given. 
Withholding  what  you  now  require,  I 
mean  no  disrespect  to  you,  but  I  must 


7^  CALTHORPE. 

make  so  free  as  to  say,  I  should  be  more 
ready  to  venture  a  promise,  were  there 
less  impetuosity  on  your  part ;  for  really, 
to  speak  without  reserve,  this  feverish 
impatience  is  more  characteristic  of  a 
temporary  passion,  than  of  that  rational 
affection,  which  alone  deserves  the  name 
of  love." 

«  Really,  Sir,  you  carry  this  too  far. 
Others,  who  are  not  your  inferiors  in 
rank  or  fortune,  would  be  less  cautious 
when  Sir  James  Denville  presented  him- 
self as  a  suitor." 

"  Others  must  seek  their  happiness, 
and  protect  their  comforts  as  they  can  ; 
but  it  is  my  duty  to  exercise  the  powers 
of  reason  and  discrimination  which  God 
has  given  me,  such  as  they  are,  for  the 
benefit  of  my  offspring." 

"  And  these  you  scruple  not  to 
oppose"  — 

"  To  you,  Sir  James,  —  to  the  most 
exalted  peer  in  the  realm  ;  nay,  to  ma- 
jesty itself,  where  the  happiness  of  my 


CALTHORPE.  75 

child  is  at  stake.  In  the  exercise  of  the 
rights  of  a  free  citizen,  I  know  no 
fear,  and  will  be  restrained  by  no  con- 
siderations of  personal  respect,  from 
endeavouring  to  merit  the  character 
which  I  hope  will  follow  me  to  my  grave, 
—  that  of  a  just  man,  and  a  rationally 
indulgent  parent/' 

Sir  James  paused.  He  had  not  ex- 
pected opposition  from  Mr.  Burleigh. 
His  former  kindness,  and  his  present 
impracticability,  he  knew  not  how  to 
reconcile ;  for  he  flattered  himself  that 
he  knew  the  world  too  well  to  mis- 
take the  way  to  a  father's  heart;  and 
with  all  the  generosity  and  humanity 
that  belonged  to  Mr.  Burleigh,  he  had 
still  viewed  him  as  a  man  of  the  world. 
He  soon  recovered  from  his  surprise,  so 
far  as  to  applaud  the  manly  candour  of 
his  friend.  He,  however,  declared  that 
he  would  not  hold  himself  to  be  rejected. 
On  reflection,  he  doubted  not,  various 
considerations  would  occur  to  Mr.  Bur- 

VOL.  I.  E 


7^  CALTHORPE. 

leigh  to  sustain  his  pretensions.  He 
finally  remarked,  with  an  air  of  sportive 
menace,  that  he  should  now  reverse  the 
intended  course  of  his  proceedings,  and, 
as  in  the  first  instance,  he  had  proposed 
to  engage  the  father  to  plead  for  him 
with  the  daughter,  he  would  now  give 
the  latter  the  preference,  and,  as  he 
hoped,  before  a  very  long  period  had 
elapsed,  prevail  upon  Harriet  to  advo- 
cate the  cause  of  his  love  with  her  parent ; 
and  certain  he  was,  that  the  eloquence 
of  her  eyes  would  be  found  irresistible. 


CALTHORPE.  ^5 


CHAP.  V. 

"  Such  as  have  lean  and  spare  bodies  stuff  themselves 
out  with  clothes ;  so  they  who  are  defective  in  matter, 
endeavour  to  make  amends  with  words." 

Montaigne'*  Essai/s, 

Henry  met  with  a  most  cordial  and 
flattering  reception,  from  the  Hanson's. 
Smiles  graced  every  face.  Mrs.  Hanson's 
countenance  retained  no  trace  of  that 
fury  which  had  lighted  it  up  an  hour 
before,  when  handing  a  cup  of  coffee  to 
the  Deputy.  The  ''  my  dears,"  and 
"  my  loves,"  were  exchanged  with  the 
most  captivating  suavity,  and  the  gentle 
deportment  of  her  amiable  parents  com- 
municated itself  to  Miss  Alexandrina, 
who  failed  not  to  respond  to  their  en- 
dearments, with  "  Yes,  my  dear  papa," 
and  "certainly,  my  dear  mamma."  Henry 
E  2 


76  CALTHORPE. 

had  rarely  ever  witnessed  such  family 
kindness  before ;  for  at  home,  where 
the  truest  aifection  existed,  the  form- 
alities of  its  language  were  somewhat 
neglected. 

Proper  care  was  taken  to  exhibit 
all  the  accomplishments  of  Alexandrina 
to  the  greatest  advantage.  Her  music, 
her  drawings,  and  her  needle  work, 
were  successively  called  upon  to  charm 
the  young  visitor.  Miss  Hanson,  though 
a  showy  girl,  was  rather  too  con- 
scious of  her  personal  attractions,  to 
make  a  very  powerful  impression  on 
Henry,  whose  eyes  had  been  accustom- 
ed to  repose  on  the  brighter  charms, 
and  on  the  retiring  loveliness  of  Har- 
riet, He,  however,  found  her  affable 
and  obliging,  and  the  welcome  he  met 
with,  inspired  him  with  very  favourable 
thoughts  of  the  whole  family,  while 
the  splendid  entertainments  which  each 
succeeding  day  produced,  filled  him 
with  astonishment  and  admiration  at  the 


CALTHORPE.  77 

t)rilliant  destiny  of  a  British  merchant. 
His  wishes  were  studied  in  every  re- 
spect. In  the  morning,  when  he  be- 
gan to  move,  a  valet,  who  was  on  the 
watch,  presented  himself  at  the  door 
of  his  elegantly  furnished  bed-chamber, 
to  know  if  he  had  any  commands,  and 
the  same  attentions  pursued  him  through 
the  day,  even  to  such  a  pitch,  that 
Henry,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  wait 
upon  himself,  found  the  kindness  of  his 
friends  a  positive  inconvenience.  They 
could  not  endure  the  thoughts  of  going 
to  any  place  of  public  entertainment 
unaccompanied  by  young  Mr.  Burleigh. 
He  was  of  their  parties  to  the  play-^ 
the  opera — the  masquerade,  and  he 
participitated  in  all  their  other  public 
and  private  entertainments. 

But  of  all  the  treats  prepared  for  him,' 
none  promised  Henry  more  gratification 
than  an  expected  introduction  to  the  then 
Lord  Mayor  of  London,  who  was  as 
great  a  patriot  as  Mr.  Hanson  himself, 
E  a 


78  CALTHORPE. 

and  who  had  lately  been  chosen  the 
champion  of  the  rights  and  liberties  of 
his  fellow-citizens  in  parliament. 

Henry  was  informed,  that  his  lord- 
ship had  expressed  a  wish  to  see  the 
son  of  Counsellor  Burleigh.  And  the 
condescension  of  the  chief  magistrate 
went  so  far,  that  the  day  after  this  in- 
timation was  received,  he  actually  called 
to  pay  his  respects  to  Henry. 

From  the  speeches  which  he  had 
seen  of  Sir  Robert  Boobyhead  in  the 
public  prints,  our  hero  was  prepared 
to  meet  a  very  dignified  personage. 
The  feelings  of  reverential  awe,  with 
which  Henry  had  approached  the 
Lord  Mayor,  were  soon  no  more.  He 
found  him  a  shallow  coxcomb,  so  elated 
with  the  situation  he  degraded,  that 
he  could  think  of  nothing,  talk  of  no- 
thing but  himself.  He  had  only  called 
on  the  present  occasion  to  make  a 
pompous  parade  of  condescension,  while 
he  expected  to  dazzle  the  young  stranger. 

"  I   am  very  glad  to  see  you,   Mr. 


CALTHORPE.  79 

Burleigh,"  said  his  Lordship,  "  I  hope  I 
shall  shortly  have  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  at  the  Mansion  House.  Use 
no  ceremony,  I  beg.  I  keep  a  slate 
on  which  every  gentleman  must  write 
his  name,  who  proposes  to  honour  me 
with  his  company  on  any  particular 
day.  Mr.  Hanson  will  tell  you  what 
the  rule  is  as  to  number.  I  am  par- 
tial to  small  snug  parties.  My  inti- 
mate friends  the  Duke  of  Gobbleshire, 
the  Earl  of  Garbage,  and  Mr.  Prattle, 
the  member  for  Chatterton,  you  will 
generally  meet  there,  and  many  others. 

"The  first  ornaments  of  the  agel" 
added  Mr.  Hanson :  "  your  lordship 
must  be  exceedingly  happy  in  such 
society." 

"  I  dare  say,"  remarked  Henry,  "  his 
lordship  finds  this  one  of  the  most  va- 
luable privileges  of  his  exalted  situation." 

"  I  do,  Mr.  Burleigh,  I  am  sure. 
Perhaps  there  can  certainly  be  no 
greater  pleasure  enjoyed.  But  for  the 
E  4 


so  CALTHORPE* 

support  I  derive  from  the  conversation 
of  enlightened  men,  I  am  sure,  per- 
liaps,  that  certainly  I  could  not  go 
through  all  the  duties  of  the  office  I 
have  the  honour  to  hold." 

"  Why  it  of  course  brings  its  cares." 

**  You  are  right,  Mr.  Hanson.  Un- 
questionably it  brings  cares  which  cer- 
tainly  you  perhaps  are  not  altogether  in 
part  aware  of.  The  office  of  chief 
magistrate,  is  undoubtedly  one  of  great 
labour." 

«  And  difficulty  too,"  Mr.  Hanson 
remarked,  endeavouring  to  improve  on 
his  lordships  description. 

"  Aye,  and  of  danger,"  his  lordship 
proceeded,  improving  even  on  the  ad- 
dition of  Mr.  Hanson.  "  No  ordinary 
share  of  courage  is  undoubtedly  neces- 
sary, perhaps,  to  go  through  with  the 
business." 

"  For  services  like  yours,  you  ought  to 
have  received  the  thanks  of  both  Houses 


CALTHORPE.  81 

of  Parliament,  and  been  created  a  Baronet, 
at  Jeast." 

"  Why  so  I  should,  under  any  ad- 
ministration  that  wished  to  serve  the 
country;  but  unquestionably  perhaps, 
I*m  sure  I  ought  not  to  look  for  any  thing 
from  the  present  corrupt  set.  My  op- 
position in  parliament,  you  see,  is  against 
me." 

"  Against  them,  I  presume,  your  Lord- 
ship means,"  said  Henry. 

"  No,  I  mean  it's  against  myself,  as 
far " 

*«  As  far  as  his  Lordship's  private  in- 
terests are  concerned,"  said  Mr.  Hanson. 
**  Now  do  you  understand." 

"  Clearly,"  replied  Henry.  "  I  am 
quite  satisfied  that  the  hostility  of  his 
Lordship  may  be  more  injurious  to  him- 
self, than  to  the  adininistration  he  feels 
it  his  duty  to  oppose." 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  Lord  Mayor ; 
"  Ministers    have    suffered   so   severely 
from  the  dressings  I  have  given  them  in 
E  5 


82  CALTHORPE. 

the  House,  that  they  oppose  me  in  every 
thing.  There  was  last  year,  now,  just 
before  Christmas,  I  undertook  to  show 
the  poor  of  the  metropoUs  that  coals  were 
of  little  or  no  use  in  winter." 

«  Indeed!" 

"  I  proved  that  by  making  balls  to 
consist  of  seven-eighths  of  clay,  and  one- 
eighth  of  coals ;  that  a  peck  of  coals  (with 
economy),  might  be  made  to  serve  a  poor 
family  a  month." 

«  That  was  an  important  discovery." 

"  Yet,  for  proposing  this,  I  was  taunted 
in  the  ministerial  prints,  and  told  that  I 
had  better  teach  the  poor  to  sweeten 
their  tea  with  brick-dust,  and  recommend 
it  to  them  to  use  soft-soap  instead  of 
butter." 

"  Shameful !  Shameful !  —  I  am  a 
friend  to  the  liberty  of  the  press,  but  this 
licentiousness  ought  to  be  repressed." 

His  Lordship,  after  a  few  more  anec- 
dotes of  himself,  said  he  must  retire,  as 
he  had* to  take  the   chair  at  a  public 


CALTHORPE.  85 

meeting  of  a  society  for  the  relief  of  per- 
sons confined  for  small  debts.  He  spoke 
with  animation  of  the  horrors  of  a  system 
which  went  to  incarcerate,  though  but 
for  an  hour,  the  innocent ;  and  departed, 
after  enhancing  the  value  of  the  call  he 
had  made,  by  declaring  that,  to  gratify 
the  impatience  he  had  felt  to  see  young 
Mr.  Burleigh,  he  had  remanded  half  a 
dozen  prisoners,  who  were  to  have  had 
their  hearings  that  day,  till  the  ensuing 
Thursday. 

The  attention  of  Henry  was  soon  called 
to'other  persons  of  wealth  and  importance 
in  the  city.  Intent  upon  making  him  ac- 
quainted with  all  their  great  connections, 
and  of  displaying  their  future  son-in-law, 
a  succession  of  amusements  were  pre- 
pared for  him.  Henry,  gratified  by  the 
attentions  he  received,  could  not  but 
admire  the  warm-hearted  liberality  of  his 
city  friends,  and  feel  sincerely  attached 
to  such  worthy  people. 

But  it  was  not  by  such  means  only  that 
E  6 


S4f  CALTHORPE* 

they  endeavoured  to  win  the  admiration 
of  Henry.  The  display  of  their  virtues 
was  carefully  directed  against  his  judg- 
ment. Not  only  were  they  all  harmony 
among  themselves,  but  their  benevolence 
extended  to  external  objects,  and  the 
often-repelled  beggar  no  longer  suppli- 
cated in  vain  for  a  mouthful  of  broken 
victuals,  and  a  halfpenny. 

"  Look  at  that  poor  creature  !'*  said 
Mrs.  Hanson,  one  day  when  they  were 
just  returned  from  a  walk,  as  a  wretch  in 
a  sailor*s  jacket  presented  himself,  with 
toasting-forks  for  sale.  "  His  leg  has 
been  amputated,  and,  poor  fellow!  he 
has  lost  an  eye.  It  would  be  a  charity 
to  buy  something  of  this  man." 

The  sensibility  of  Mrs.  Hanson  went 
to  the  heart  of  Henry,  and  he  admired 
her  none  the  less,  when,  forgetful  of  her 
dignity,  and  the  state  she  usually  main- 
tained, he  saw  her  hasten  to  make  a 
purchase.  But  Mrs.  Hanson,  while  mak- 
ing a  charitable  display,    did  not  forget 


CALTHORPE.  85 

that  she  had  a  character  for  mercantile 
sagacity  to  maintain.  Though  the  cripple 
asked  but  a  low  price  for  his  merchan- 
dise, a  price  much  below  what  she  must 
have  paid  at  a  shop  ;  she  failed  not  to 
tell  him  that  she  knew  where  she  could 
buy  plenty  for  half  the  money,  and  a 
vast  deal  better  than  his  into  the  bar- 
gain ;  and,  professing  to  have  no  want 
of  the  article,  she  was  disposed  to  pur- 
chase, it  appeared  to  her  just  and  liberal, 
to  bid  the  sailor  much  less  than  the  sum 
which  he  had  named. 

The  poor  man  was  going  away.  She 
called  to  the  porter  to  run  after  him,  ob- 
serving, she  must  pay  double  what  he 
had  asked,  if  she  went  to  a  shop. 

At  that  moment  the  sailor  returned, 
and  tendered  the  article  for  the  sum 
which  had  been  offered.  He  solemnly 
declared,  that  it  had  cost  him  more,  but 
he  was  going  to  his  home  without  money, 
and  was  obliged  to  sell  at  a  loss  or  starve. 

The   lady    triumphantly   carried    her 


86  CALTHORl^E. 

prize  up  stairs,  followed  by  Henry,  who 
had  heard  rather  more  of  the  negociation 
which  had  jusf  ^concluded  than  was  in- 
tended. 

On  entering  the  dining-room  Henry 
found  himself  introduced  to  a  Mr.  Pierre- 
point,  a  young  man  but  little  older  than 
himself,  who  had  been  placed  with  Mr. 
Hanson,  as  it  was  proposed  Henry  should 
be,  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  commer- 
cial matters.  Pierrepoint  occasionally 
travelled  for  the  concern,  and  had  now 
just  returned  from  Lisbon.  Henry  was 
struck  by  the  powerful  expression  of 
his  features  j  and  it  was  impossible  not  to 
regard  him  as  handsome,  though  an  air 
of  sullen  discontent  sat  on  his  coun- 
tenance, that  was  hardly  mitigated,  when 
the  polite  address  of  Henry  called  upon 
him  for  a  courteous  reply. 

The  lady  expressed  satisfaction  at  his 
return  ;  but,  with  all  her  anxiety  to  ap- 
pear affable,  it  was  sufficiently  obvious 
that     she    would    have    been    nothing 


CALTHORPE.'  87 

grieved  had  he  been  longer  away.  Pierre- 
point  received  her  congratulations  with 
a  coolness,  that  admirably  accorded  with 
her  indifference  ;  and  to  the  languid  as- 
sertion, that  she  was  glad  to  see  him  in 
safety,  he  merely  replied  — 

"  I  thank  you,  madam."' 

A  pause  followed.  The  mind  of  Henry 
was  so  much  engrossed,  by  the  unpre- 
possessing manner  of  Pierrepoint,  that  he 
was  unconscious  of  the  silence  that  pre- 
vailed, and  made  no  effort  to  interrupt  it. 
Mrs.  Hanson  was  the  first  to  attempt 
this,  and  the  fork  she  had  just  purchased 
seemed  a  fit  instrument  to  effect  a  re- 
newal of  conversation.  Assuming  a  lively 
air,  she  presented  it  to  the  newly  arrived 
tiaveller,  accosting  him  in  these  words, 

'<  What  do  you  think  of  my  purchase? 
I  bought  tliis  just  now  at  the  door  for 
three  shillings.  I'll  be  bound,  it  could 
not  be  matched  in  the  shops  for  less  than 
a  crown." 


88  CALTHORPE. 

"  O !  it  was  you  that  I  heard  at  the 
door,  was  it  ?  I  should  have  thought  you 
might  have  trusted  your  maid  on  such 
an  occasion.'* 

"  Yes,  but  while  ringing  for  her,  the 
poor  seller  might  have  walked  away,  and 
I  thought  it  a  charity  to  buy  of  an  un- 
fortunate man,  who  had  lost  a  limb  in 
the  service  of  his  country." 

"  If,"  said  Pierrepoint,  his  features 
suddenly  relaxing  into  a  smile,  "  you 
went  to  perform  a  benevolent  action,  that 
is  quite  another  matter.  It  seems  a  very 
good  one." 

"  He  wanted  four  shillings  for  it,  bat 
I  would  not  give  him  more  than  three," 
the  lady  exultingly  added,  forgetting,  in 
her  eagerness  to  gain  the  praise  of  a  skil- 
ful dealer,  that  she  was  a  candidate  for 
the  applause  due  to  benevolence. 

"  You  bargained  well !"  Pierrepoint 
remarked. 

«  I  think  I  did." 


CALTHORPE.  89 

"  And  your  charity,  it  seems,  mani- 
fested itself,  in  grinding  down  the  unfor- 
tunate wretch  you  affected  to  pity." 

"  He  was  glad  to  part  with  it  so." 

"  But  you  should  have  scorned  to  take 
it  so,  if  your  object  in  buying  was  to  miti- 
gate the  sufferer's  distress.  I  am  much 
inclined  to  think  there  would  have  been 
less  cruelty  in  snatching  it  from  his  bas- 
ket/ while  his  head  was  turned  another 
way;  for  then  he  would  not  have  been 
mocked  and  insulted,  as  well  as  wronged." 

"  Wronged  !"  echoed  the  lady,  and  her 
eye  glistened  with  fires,  which  had  never 
before  been  kindled,  since  the  arrival  of 
Mr.  Burleigh  —  "  Wronged,  indeed  !  — 
Really,  Mr.  Pierrepoint,  whatever  you 
may  be  pleased  to  think,  you  might 
express  yourself  in  decent  language,  if 
not  on  my  account,  out  of  respect  for  Mr. 
Burleigh." 

"  I  cannot  think  as  I  please,  madam. 
My  thoughts  are  forced  on  me,  and  my 
tongue  has  too  much  honest  laziness  to 


90  CALTHORPE. 

fatigue  itself  in  framing  courtly  phrases, 
to  describe  ignoble  conduct.  I  love  to 
call  a  spade  a  spade.  For  Mr.  Burleigh, 
he  can  hardly  expect  that  his  presence  is 
to  impose  restraint  upon  me.  I  meant 
no  reflection  on  him ;  for  I  did  not  sus- 
pect him  to  be  your  accomplice." 

"  Accoimlice !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Han- 
son, "  whooo  you  call  an  accomplice  ?" 

"  ISo  one;  I  dare  say  Mr.  Burleigh  did 
not  assist  you  in  the  transaction." 

"  I  do  not  know.  Sir,"  interrupted 
Henry,  "  that  you  have  any  right  to 
speculate  on  my  conduct." 

"  I  do  not  speculate  on  it." 

"  To  me  it  appears  that  you  do." 

"  That  is  your  mistake.  I  speak  from 
a  knowledge  of  facts,  supplied  within  the 
last  three  minutes." 

"  You  can  have  learnt  nothing  here, 
within  the  period  you  have  mentioned, 
that  affects  my  conduct." 

"  You  are  again  in  error,  for  the  poor 
plundered  cripple  has  just  hopped  into 


CALTHORPE.  91 

the  middle  of  the  road,  to  thank  me  for 
half-a-crown  that  he  has  m  his  hand, 
which  your  pity  must  have  sent  after 
him." 

Henry's  face  was  covered  with  a  deep 
blush.  He  advanced  to  the  window,  as 
if  to  look  for  the  sailor,  but  in  reality  to 
conceal  his  confusion.  The  retiring  ob- 
ject of  his  benevolence  was  still  endea- 
vouring to  manifest  his  thankfulness.  He 
felt  not  a  little  embarrassed  how  to  an- 
swer, as  it  w^as  impossible  to  deny  what 
had  just  been  imputed.  He  at  last  re- 
plied that  he  did  not  feel  it  necessary  to 
enter  into  any  explanation,  for  the  satis- 
faction of  Mr.  Pierrepoint. 

"  I  want  none,"  said  Pierrepoint. 
<*  You  have  had  the  virtue  to  do  a  good 
action,  and  are  weak  enough,  from  po- 
liteness to  a  lady,  to  be  ashamed  of  it." 

"  That,"  retorted  Henry  "may  be  your 
opinion  ;  and  I  feel  no  anxiety  to  disturb 
it,  for  1  cannot  entertain  a  very  sincere 
respect  for  the  sentiments  of  a  man,  who 


J9i^  CALTHORPE. 

can  so  rashly  undertake  to  pronounce  on 
the  actions  and  motives  of  a  perfect 
stranger." 

Pierrepoint  looked  haughtily  at  Henry, 
and  coldly  replied, 

"  Be  it  so ;  your  respect  is  not  wanted.*' 

With  these  words  he  left  the  room. 

Mrs*  Hanson  forthwith  took  upon  her- 
self the  delineation  of  his  character.  She 
described  him  to  owe  every  thing  to  the 
benevolence  of  the  Deputy  her  husband, 
whom,  nevertheless,  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  treating  with  very  little  ceremony. 
Being  of  low  origin,  he  did  not  know 
how  to  behave  himself  in  good  company, 
—  though,  to  be  sure,  he  could  sometimes 
be  very  polite  if  he  pleased ;  yet  for  the 
most  part,  he  was  very  unpleasant,  and 
cared  not  whom  he  affronted. 


CALTHORPE,  93 


CHAP.  VI. 

"  Aye,  Aye,  these  words  of  his,  move  me  as  much 
As  though  a  goose  should  play  the  porcupine ; 
And  dart  her  plumes,  thinking  to  pierce  my  breast." 

Marlow. 

Mrs.  Hanson  did  not  deviate  so  far 
from  her  confirmed  habits,  as  to  give  a  per- 
fectly correct  description  of  Pierrepoint. 
Though  sometimes  very  deficient  in 
courtesy,  it  was  not  true  that  he  depend- 
ed on  the  charity  of  those  in  whose  em- 
ploy he  found  himself.  Far  from  owing 
any  thing  to  the  sheltering  benevolence 
of  the  Hansons,  they  were  greatly  his 
debtors,  as  the  address  and  intelligence, 
with  which  he  had  managed  the  most  im- 
portant mercantile  negociations,  in  which 
Mr.  Deputy  Hanson  had  been  engaged, 


9i  CALTHORPE. 

had  given  that  person  more  thousands, 
than  the  agent  had  ever  received  hun- 
dreds, from  the  hberahty  of  the  patriotic 
Common-councilman.  His  services  were 
still  absolutely  necessary,  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hanson  were  too  sensible  of  his 
value  to  have  any  wish  to  part  altogether; 
happy  as  they  were,  from  his  unconci- 
liating  conduct,  to  be  relieved  from  the 
inconvenience  of  his  company  on  certain 
occasions. 

After  Henry  had  been  introduced  to 
all  the  quality  of  the  city,  Mr.  Hanson 
thought  it  necessary  to  give  a  further 
proof  of  the  gentility  of  his  habits,  by 
proposing  a  trip  to  Brighton.  Such  an 
excursion,  in  the  company  of  those  from 
whom  he  had  experienced  so  much  kind- 
ness, could  not  be  disagreeable,  and 
Henry,  without  loss  of  time,  solicited 
permission  to  accept  the  pressing  invita- 
tion he  had  received  to  accompany  them. 
This  indulgence  was  promptly  accorded 
by  his  father,  who,    however,  failed  not 


CALTHORPE.  9^ 

to  remind  him  that  he  must  not  mistake 
his  present  course  of  pleasures  for  the 
life  of  a  merchant,  and  look  forward  to 
a  constant  repetition  of  the  same  enjoy- 
ments, while  engaged  in  the  anxious  and 
harassing  pursuits  of  commerce. 

But  Henry  observed,  and  with  secret 
admiration  recorded  the  fact  in  his  me- 
mory, that  while  preparing  for  pleasure, 
Mr.  Hanson  did  not  suffer  it  wholly  to 
engross  his  mind  to  the  exclusion  of  more 
important  considerations.  Indeed,  every 
thing,  that  he  had  as  yet  seen,  went  to  give 
Henry  a  very  high  idea  of  the  discrimi- 
nating character  of  Mr.  Hanson,  as  well 
as  of  his  liberality.  On  one  occasion 
when  he  mentioned  to  the  Deputy,  some- 
thing of  the  wishes  and  views  of  his  fa* 
ther,  with  respect  to  himself;  and  re- 
marked that  he  was  quite  certain  money 
would  be  no  obstacle  in  the  way  of  their 
coming  to  an  arrangement,  from  which 
he  might  be  permanently  benefited  by 
the  commercial  knowledge  of  Mr.  Han. 


96  CALTHORPE. 

son;  the  latter  felt  exceedingly  hurt  at 
the  mention  of  any  thing  that  sounded 
like  remuneration.  Money,  he  declared, 
was  totally  out  of  the  question,  but  if 
he  could  do  any  thing  to  serve  or  gratify 
the  son  of  his  esteemed  friend  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh, it  would  afford  him  real  happiness ; 
and  he  most  energetically  called  upon 
Henry  to  do  justice  to  his  motives,  and 
to  believe  that  he  was  solely  actuated  by 
the  feelings  he  professed  —  that  good  will 
was  with  him  all  in  all,  uncontaminated 
by  the  base  alloy  of  interest. 

All  this  passed  for  real  friendship  witli 
Henry.  The  anxiety  of  his  father  to  save 
him  from  the  vitiating  examples  spread 
for  youth  on  every  side,  had  brought 
him  up  in  such  a  state  of  seclusion 
from  the  world,  that  he  was  ready,  with 
all  the  fervent  generosity  of  youth,  to  be- 
lieve men  what  they  seemed,  and  what 
they  ought  to  be.  He  felt  the  highest 
respect  for  Mr.  Hanson,  and  was  only 
embarrassed,  because  he  could  not  im- 
17 


CALTHORPE.  97 

mediately   find  any  way  of  manifesting 
the  gratitude  which  filled  his  bosom. 

Such  w^ere  the  young  gentleman's  feel- 
ings, arising  out  of  the  conduct  of  Mr. 
Hanson  towards  himself ;  but  he  was 
wrought  up  into  a  perfect  glow  of  ad- 
miration, when  he  found  that  the  kind- 
ness of  that  philanthropist,  far  from  being 
confined  to  him,  was  not  even  bounded 
by  the  limits  of  his  native  land ;  but,  pass- 
ing over  oceans,  extended  itself  to  climes 
the  most  remote,  and  seemed  to  clasp 
all  mankind  in  its  embrace.  He  ac- 
companied the  Deputy  one  day  to  the 
Common-council  chamber,  and  there 
had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  him  speak 
on  a  motion  respecting  the  abolition  of 
the  slave-trade.  The  energy  with  whicli 
he  condemned  the  conduct  of  those  who 
endeavoured  to  perpetuate  a  traffic  in 
human  flesh  and  blood,  though  it  had  not 
all  the  imposing  eloquence  which  Henry 
had  been  tauo^ht  to  admire  in  the  O ratio 
in  Verremy  had  still  much  that  he  ap- 

VOL.  I.  F 


98  CALTHORPE. 

proved,  and  even  some  inaccuracies  of 
language  which  he  remarked,  gave  it  in- 
creased value,  as  they  seemed  to  prove  it 
the  unstudied  tribute  of  sensibility  to  hu- 
manity. The  earnestness  with  which  he 
appealed  to  the  finer  feelings  of  his  au- 
dience, in  behalf  of  the  sable  sufferers  of 
unhappy  Africa,  carried  to  the  heart  of 
Henry  the  fullest  conviction  that  the 
orator  was  sincere  ;  and  he  could  not 
help  feeling  indignant,  when,  turning  his 
head,  he  saw  Pierrepoiat  with  his  hand- 
kerchief raised  to  his  face,  to  conceal  the 
agitation  of  his  risible  muscles,  while 
scornful  laughter  seemed  ready  to  burst 
on  every  sentence  v/hich  the  patriot  ut- 
tered. Too  much  disgusted  to  seek  any 
familiarity  with  a  character  in  which 
such  littleness  and  malice  seemed  united, 
he  did  not  appear  to  see  him  ;  and  when 
the  debate  was  over,  he  took  the  arm  of 
Mr.  Hanson,  without  exchanging  one 
word  with  the  churl,  who  had  treated 
with  levity  a  speech,  which,  if  it  were 


CALTHORPE.  99 

only  for  its  subject,  was  entitled  to  be 
listened  to  with  attention  and  respect. 

After  dinner,  that  day,  the  proceed- 
ings at  the  court  of  Common-council 
were  brought  on  the  tapis^  and  Mrs. 
Hanson  and  Alexandrina  listened  with 
greedy  ears  to  the  brilliant  history  of  the 
part  acted  by  the  Deputy  in  the  debate, 
which  he  did  not  scruple  to  say  electri- 
fied the  whole  court ;  for  the  Lord  Mayor, 
at  its  close,  had  assured  him  that  **  he 
was  sure  he  thought  it  was  certainly  per- 
haps one  of  the  best  speeches  ever  heard 
within  those  walls." 

Henry  could  not  but  assent  to  the  truth 
of  the  assertion,  that  it  seemed  to  make 
a  strong  impression  on  the  members  j 
and  he  admired  the  ingenious  modesty  of 
Mr.  Hanson,  which  seemed  to  content 
itself  with  taking  credit  for  the  weakest 
parts  of  his  oration,  which,  by  the  bye, 
Henry  had  remarked,  obtained  most  ap- 
plause, while  the  speech  was  in  the  course 
of  delivery. 

F    2 


100  CALTHORPE* 

"  They  cheered  me  enough,  however, 
to-day,'*  said  Mr.  Hanson.  He  threw 
out  this  observation,  intending  that,  like 
the  first  ball  in  a  game  at  billiards,  it 
should  entice  another  to  follow. 

"  When  I  talked  of  the  melancholy 
sound  of  clanking  chains,  they  were  all 
attention  ;  and  so  they  were  when  I 
brought  in  the  figure  of  the  earthquake." 

"  But  I  thought  that  the  most  forcible 
part  of  your  speech,  in  which  you  asserted 
the  claim  which  all  suffering  beings  have 
to  the  humane  interference  of  their  fellow 
men  who  are  in  happier  circumstances." 

"  Aye,  that  was  the  best  part,"  re- 
marked Pierrepoint,  in  a  sarcastic  tone, 
which  somewhat  embarrassed  Henry,  as 
he  was  not  quite  certain  whether  the 
sneer  was  intended  for  him  or  for  Mr. 
Hanson. 

Mr.  Hanson  went  on  to  refresh  Mr. 
Burleigh^s  memory  on  other  points. 

*'  When  I  spoke  of  the  foaming  ca- 


CALTHORPE.  101 

taract,  too,  I  thought  their  cheers  would 
never  have  subsided.'* 

"  Why,  then,  it  seems  you  had  even 
a  meaner  opinion  of  the  understanding 
of  your  audience  than  was  justified  by  the 
event,"  Pierrepoint  added. 

"  Did  you  think  well  of  the  speech 
upon  the  whole,  Mr.  Burleigh,"  the  De- 
puty next  enquired  j  while,  for  the  first 
time  he  glanced  at  Pierrepoint,  as  if 
curious  to  ascertain  how  he  would  bear 
the  compliment  he  expected. 

«  I  think,"  Henry  replied,  <«  that  it 
contained  much  exceedingly  good  mat- 
ter, which  more  than  excused  the  little  in- 
accuracies of  arrangement  or  of  expres- 
sion that  were  here  and  there  to  be 
detected,  and  the  zeal  with  which  you 
espoused  the  cause  of  the  unhappy,  ought 
to  disarm  criticism  itself,  and  entitle  you 
to  the  applause  of  every  feeling  heart." 

->Pierrepoint's   countenance   now  wore 
an  aspect  of  merriment ;  and  he  looked 
first  at  the  Deputy,  and  then  at  the  wife 
F  3 


10^  CALTHORPE. 

and  daughter  of  the  orator,  as  if  he 
expected  the  trio  would  forget  their 
gravity  at  the  simplicity  of  Henry. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  if  Mr.  Burleigh 
likes  it,  that's  enough." 

"  Why  now  really,  Mr.  Pierrepoint,  I 
should  like  to  know  what  you  have  to 
say  against  it,"  said  Mr.  Hanson. 

**  Vv^hat  I  should  have  to  say  might 
take  up  too  much  of  your  valuable 
time." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  have  not  the  happy 
art,  which  you  have  sometimes  been  for- 
ward enough  in  recommending  others 
to  acquire,  of  expressing  a  great  deal 
in  a  few  words.  —  Come,  let  us  have 
your  opinion.  Pray  what  do  you  think 
of  *  the  Speech.' " 

**  Nothing." 

"  Surely,  Sir,"  cried  Henry,  "  you 
must  admit  that  it  embodied  many  bene- 
volent sentiments,  and  applied  them  tr  a 
laudable  purpose." 

"  If  it  pleased  you,   Sir,  as  I  know  it 


CALTHORPE.  103 

did  Mr.  Hanson,  whatever  objections  I 
might  urge  would  be  sure  of  being 
negatived  bj  a  majority.'' 

"  I  dare  say  Mr.  Burleigh's  judgment 
may  be  as  good  as  yours,"  retorted  the 
Deputy. 

"  Much  better;  though,  if  he  were  as 
well  acquainted  with  modern  debates,  as, 
I  dare  say,  he  is  with  ancient  eloquence, 
I  am  afraid  your  oration  w^ould  not  ap- 
pear the  most  original  performance  he  has 
ever  met  with.  He  would  find  that  you 
have  garbled  some  excellent  speeches, 
and  translated  the  ideas  of  others  into 
your  own  phraseology,  in  order  to  figure 
away,  like  the  jackdaw  in  the  peacock's 
borrowed  feathers." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  the 
similes  I  used  were  borrowed  ?" 

"  Onoi  your  cataracts,  earthquakes, 
and  conflagrations,  were  all  your  own ; 
but,  unluckily,  they  were  so  awkwardly 
connected  with  your  speech,  that  they 
seemed  to  have  been  nailed  to  it  after 
F  4 


104  CALTHORPEe 

it  was  finished,  like  the  jingles  on  a  boy% 
hoop." 

"  At  least,"  said  Henry,  "  you  must 
admit  that  the  speech  in  question  was 
replete  with  benevolence." 

"  If  the  mere  utterance  of  words  which 
cost  nothing,  merits  the  character  of 
benevolence,  I  am  not  prepared  to  deny 
that  such  praise  is  due  to  Mr.  Hanson." 

"  And,"  replied  Henry,  "  if  you  were 
to  restrain  a  man  from  speaking  in  behalf 
of  a  humane  project,  till  he  had  the  power 
and  the  inclination  of  carrying  it  into 
effect,  at  his  own  expense,  I  am  afraid 
the  condition  of  the  unhappy  would  be 
very  slowly  ameliorated." 

*'  Very  true.  How  will  you  get  over 
that  ?"  enquired  the  Deputy,  addressing 
himself  to  Pierrepoint. 

*<  I  have  no  wish  to  get  over  such  a 
truism ;  but,  in  spite  of  that,  I  shall  con- 
tinue to  laugh  at  your  pompous  pro- 
fessions of  humanity;  and  hold  harangues 
like  those  I  have  beard  to-day,    to  be 


CALTHORPE.  105 

purely  theatrical,  and  entitled  to  any 
thing  but  sober  praise." 

«  ril  tell  you  what,  Sir,"  cried  the 
Common-council-man,  **  when  Mr.  Cal- 
thorpe  placed  you  here,  and  it  was  agreed 
that  you  should  be  one  of  the  family,  I 
do  not  know  that  it  was  stipulated  tJiat 
you  were  to  treat  me  with  contempt," 

"  That  was  unnecessary." 

**  Nor  did  you  do  so,  at  first."  ' 

"  I  was  not  sufficiently  acquainted 
wdth  you." 

"  And  what  authorises  you  to  do  so 
now  ?" 

<*  A  knowledge  of  your  character." 

"  Let  him  alone,  my  dear.  Don't 
say  any  thing  to  him:  you  know  his 
way,"  said  Mrs.  Hanson, 

"  Don't  tell  me !"  vociferated  the 
Deputy.  "  Look  ye,  Mr.  Pierrepoint, 
I  will  not  put  up  with  such  treatment 
from  any  man." 

"  Won't  you?" 

"  No,  Sir  J  and  if  you  don't  turn  over 
F  5 


106  CALTHORPE. 

a  new  leaf,  I  shall  very  shortly  tell  you 
what  you  may  not  like  to  hear." 

"  Shall  you  ?" 

"  Something  you  will  not  like." 

*«  A  repetition  of  your  speech,  per- 
haps?'' 

"  My  speeches  shall  not  trouble  you 
much  more ;  but  you  may  receive  a  hint, 
that  it  will  be  as  well  to  seek  a  situation 
elsewhere." 

*'  Really!"  — 

*'  Don't  vex  pa,"  cried  Alexandrina. 

**  At  your  request  I  am  silent,  said 
Pierrepoint.  I  had  no  particular  wish 
to  annoy  the  worthy  Deputy,  though  I 
could  not  help  sporting  a  joke  at — " 

*«  Oh  !  if  you  meant  it  for  a  joke,  that's 
a  sufficient  apology,"  Mr.  Hanson  re- 
marked. 

*'  I  was  not  thinking  of  any  apology. 
If  I  have  jested  with  your  humanity, 
pray  bear  in  mind,  that  many  a  true  word 
is  spoken  in  jest." 

"  Don't  be  so  provoking,  Pierrepoint," 


CALTHORPE.  107 

said  Alexandrina,  in  the  tone  which  had 
before  seemed  to  soften  him,  and  he  was 
silent. 

Henry  was  surprised  at  the  conduct  of 
Pierrepoint  in  the  course  of  this  scene, 
and  struck  with  the  good-nature  with 
which  Alexandrina  had  interposed,  and 
the  readiness  of  the  Deputy  to  forget 
what  had  offended  him.  Having  vented 
his  spleen,  though  courteously  desired  to 
stay,  Pierrepoint  soon  withdrew. 

The  Deputy  listened  to  the  sound  of 
Pierrepoint's  steps,  till  satisfied  that  he 
might  speak  without  danger  of  being 
over-heard.  He  then  commented  with 
much  asperity  on  the  disrespectful  con- 
duct of  that  person,  and  declared  that 
he  would  instantly  dismiss  him,  if  he  were 
not  prevented  from  doing  so,  by  feelings 
of  humanity.  His  sensibility  however 
forbad  him  to  do  this,  as  Pierrepoint,  he 
said,  had  no  friend  on  earth  bat  himself. 

Henry  warmly   applauded  the  bene- 
volence    of  the   Common-council-raan, 
F  6 


108  CALTHORPE. 

which  appeared  to  him  to  shine  in  his 
actions,  as  much  as  in  his  speech  ;  and 
remarked  to  his  friend,  that  those  only  of 
the  rich  understood  their  duty  and  their 
interest,  who  disdained  to  be  restrained 
by  any  feeUngs  of  pride,  or  supposed  su- 
periority, from  considering  what  was  due 
to  their  inferiors  in  rank,  even  though 
their  kindness  should  be  answered  by  in- 
gratitude. 

"  That  is  all  perfectly  true,"  replied 
Mr.  Hanson.  *'  But  you  will  excuse  me, 
my  dear  fellow,  if  I  tell  you  that  I  do 
not  think  you  sufficiently  impressed  with 
the  necessity  of  guarding  against  famili- 
arity with  low  persons.  That  Kendall, 
now,  with  whom  you  shook  hands  this 
afternoon — I  was  surprised  to  see  you  go 
up  to  him  in  the  open  street,  as  you  did. 
Don't  you  know  that  he  is  only  a  shoe- 
maker, and  in  a  very  small  way?  How 
came  you  to  know  him ?' 

"  He  came  down  to  Richmond,  some 
time  ago,  to  estabhsh  a  Bible  Society ; 


CALTHORPE.  109 

and  my  father  told  me,  that  he  was  a  very 
good  man,  and  that  he  had  for  more  than 
five-and-twenty  years  kept  a  Sunday 
School,  and  educated  all  the  poor  in  his 
neighbourhood  at  his  own  charge.  His 
means  are  indeed  but  scanty  ;  but  I  have 
lieard,  that  in  numerous  cases,  his  mite 
has  been  promptly  given  to  relieve  the 
unfortunate." 

"  Very  likely.  1  would  treat  him 
with  respect.  I  would  nod  to  him,  or 
bow  to  him,  or  do  him  any  service  in  my 
power  'y  but  still  I  would  not  make  him 
my  equal,  by  shaking  hands,  and  asking 
after  his  family.  Mind,  it  is  not  that  I 
have  for  my  ow^n  part,  an  atom  of  pride ; 
but  I  know  what  observations  people  are 
apt  to  make,  and  these  are  often  unplea- 
sant, and  sometimes  injurious." 

**  But  Mr.  Kendall,  though  not  rich, 
is  a  man  universally  respected.  My  fa- 
ther shook  hands  with  him,  and  invited 
him  to  his  house." 


110  CALTHORPE. 

"That  was  at  a  public  meeting,  1  sup- 
pose.    Was  it  not  ?" 

««  It  was/* 

<«  O!  then,  that's  quite  a  different 
thing :  yes,  yes,  at  these  tavern-meetings, 
condescension  is  always  the  order  of' 
the  day.  At  one  of  them,  if  I  w^ere 
to  catch  an  evangelical  sweep,  or  a 
fanatical  lamplighter,  I  should  do  as 
your  father  did.  The  thing  is  there 
understood,  and  one  gets  a  reputation 
for  liberality,  at  the  expense  of  a  few 
civil  phrases,  and  a  loose  invitation  to 
dinner.  But  it  does  not  follow  that 
we  are  to  know  such  people  again,  if 
we  meet  them  in  the  street ;  or  to  be 
at  home,  if  they  should  call  at  our 
houses." 

"  I  am  confident  that  Mr  Kendall, 
had  it  suited  him  to  come,  would  have 
been  most  sincerely  welcome  at  Rich- 
mond." 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,  it  is  not  at  Rich- 
mond exactly  the  same  as  it  is  at  London  ; 


CALTHORFE.  Ill 

but  I  think  my  friend  Burleigh,  would 
have  stared  if  after  a  rat-tat  at  the 
door,  he  had  heard  Kendall  the  shoemaker 
announced.  Condescension  is  very  well 
in  its  place ;  but  we  must  not  expose 
ourselves  to  the  jeers  and  reproaches  of 
people  who  have  not  the  same  liberal 
feelings  that  we  have.'' 

Henry  could  not  subscribe  to  what 
had  fallen  from  the  Deputy  with  respect 
to  Mr.  Kendall.  But  the  generous 
warmth  of  heart  which  marked  the  con- 
duct of  Mr.  Hanson  towards  himself, 
gave  strong  evidence  in  favour  of  that 
gentleman's  naturally  kind  disposition. 
An  individual  who  happens  to  be  the  ob- 
ject of  a  rich  man's  favour,  has  generally 
charity  enough  to  overlook  the  cruelty 
or  coldness  of  his  friend  towards  others. 

Now  all  was  preparation  for  the  in- 
tended trip  to  Brighton.  To  facilitate 
matters,  Henry  volunteered  his  assist- 
ance in  the  counting-house.  The  offer 
was  accepted,  and  the  polished  cit  was 


112  CALTHORPE. 

astonished  and  delighted  at  the  acuteness 
and  celerity,  with  which  he  went  through 
the  most  intricate  details  of  business. 
Mr.  Hanson  expressed  this  feeling  more 
than  once,  and  his  praises  were  reiterat- 
ed by  Mrs.  Hanson.  In  short  all  were 
liberal  of  their  plaudits,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  unsociable  Pierrepoint, 
who  was  silent,  and  whose  features  were 
for  the  most  part  wholly  unmoved, 
though  sometimes  a  slight  convulsion 
might  be  remarked  when  the  voice  of 
panegyric  was  most  loud,  which  indi- 
cated an  eiFort  to  repress  a  burst  of 
contemptuous  laughter,  that  struggled 
for  expansion  on  his  countenance. 

Every  thing  was  at  length  arranged. 
A  glass-coach  was  engaged  to  convey 
them  to  Brighton,  and  orders  were  given, 
that  it  should  be  at  the  door  by  ten 
in  the  morning.  Before  they  stepped 
into  it,  Mr.  Hanson  took  Henry  to  the 
Mansion-house,  where  the  Lord  Mayor, 
very  affectionately  took  leave  of  them, 


CALTHORPE.  113 

wishing  them  a  pleasant  journey,  and 
observing  that,  "  beyond  all  doubt,  they 
would  certainly,  perhaps,  be  much  to  be 
envied  by  those  less  fortunate  persons, 
w^ho  were,  like  himself,  detained  by  the 
cares  of  office  in  London." 

Returning  through  the  Poultry,  Henry 
perceived  at  a  little  distance,  and  coming 
towards  them,  on  the  same  side  of  the 
way,  Mr.  Kendall.  He  felt  extremely 
embarrassed.  To  shake  hands  with  him  as 
he  had  done  on  a  former  day,  would 
be  to  pass  a  slight  on  Mr.  Hanson* 
He  was  uncomfortable  at  the  idea  of 
acting  immediately  under  that  person's 
eye,  in  direct  opposition  to  his  advice ; 
but  then,  it  would  give  him  pain  to 
risk  w^ounding  the  sensibility  of  a  worthy 
man,  by  altering  his  deportment  and 
passing  him  with  a  distant  nod.  They 
had  nearly  met,  when  Mr.  Kendall 
turned  to  assist  a  poor  Lascar,  who  had 
fallen  down  apparently  from  want  and 
weakness.     But  for  the  presence  of  Mr. 


114  CALTHORPE. 

Hanson,  Henry  would  have  been  his  col- 
league in  this  humane  occupation.  As 
matters  stood,  he  suffered  the  Deputy, 
who  pressed  forward  at  this  instant  with 
additional  speed,  to  lead  him  from  the 
fainting  foreigner  and  Mr.  Kendall;  and 
he  congratulated  himself,  that  he  had 
avoided  giving  offence  to  Mr.  Hanson 
without  hurting  the  feelings  of  the 
tradesman.  But  a  restless  sensation,  to 
which  he  had  been  little  accustomed,  re- 
mained behind,  arising  from  a  conscious- 
ness that  his  conduct  was  not  exactly 
what  his  father  would  approve,  since  he 
had  passed,  as  unseen,  a  man  whose 
lowly  destiny  was  brightened  by  a  dis- 
play of  virtues  worthy  a  more  exalted 
station,  and  whose  nobility  of  soul, 
ought,  in  the  estimation  of  the  good, 
to  lift  him  far,  far  above  the  humility 
of  his   condition. 

The  Deputy  had  a  call  to  make  on 
one  of  his  neighbours.  That  no  time 
might  be  lost,   he  requested  Henry  to 


CALTHORPE.  115 

step  on  to  inform  the  ladies  that  he  would 
be  ready  to  start  with  them  in  less  than 
ten  minutes.  The  latter  made  haste  to 
execute  this  commission,  passed  into  the 
house  with  unusual  quickness,  and  was 
approaching  the  stairs,  when  he  distinctly 
heard  a  kiss  ;  and  in  the  same  moment, 
covered  with  blushes  and  confusion, 
Alexandrina  issued  from  the  little  par- 
lour, the  door  of  which  was  close  to  the 
staircase.  She  started  ;  he  was  not  suf- 
ficiently master  of  himself  to  appear  a 
stranger  to  the  cause  of  her  disorder,  and 
several  very  expressive  glances  were  ex- 
changed. Henry  repeated  the  message 
with  which  he  was  charged.  It  was  re- 
ceived by  the  young  lady,  with  a  curtsey, 
and  after  complaining  of  the  heat  of  the 
weather,  she  passed  up  stairs.  He  fol- 
lowed in  silence ;  but  when  he  recalled 
the  manner,  in  which,  on  a  former  oc- 
casion he  had  heard  her  speak  to  Pierre- 
point,  and  the  effect  her  words  seemed  to 
produce  on  that  untractable  person,  and 


llG  CALTHORPE. 

combined  what  had  then  struck  him  as 
remarkable,  with  that  which  he  had  just 
heard  and  seen,  he  could  not  help  sus- 
pecting the  unmannerly  conduct  which 
he  had  remarked,  to  be  but  an  affectation 
of  blunt  honesty;  a  disguise  under  which 
the  confidential  agent  of  the  Deputy,  was 
aiming  a  deadly  blow  at  the  happiness 
and  honour  of  an  indulgent  employer, 
and  unsuspecting  benefactor. 


CALTHORPE.  1 VJ 


CHAP.  VII. 


You  have  seen 


Sunshine  and  rain  at  once ;  her  smiles  and  tears 
Were  like  a  better  day  :  those  happy  smiles, 
That  play'd  on  her  ripe  lip,  seera'd  not  to  know 
What  guests  were  in  her  eyes  ;  which  parted  thence, 
As  pearls  from  diamonds  dropp'd." 

Shakspeare. 


Akrived  at  Brighton,  the  Hansons  esta- 
bhshed  themselves  in  elegant  apartments, 
and  proceeded  to  engage  in  all  the  va- 
rious amusements  of  that  favourite  resort 
of  wealth,  dissipation,  and  indolence. 
One  day  an  excursion  to  Rottingdean, 
and  the  next  a  ride  in  a  superb  vehicle, 
drawn  by  donkies,  to  the  Devil's  Dyke, 
or  to  Worthing,  amused  their  mornings ; 
while  their  evenings  were  divided  be- 
tween the  theatre  and  the  libraries.     At 


118  CALTHORPE. 

the  latter  the  ladies  were  distinguished 
by  the  vivacity  with  which  they  patro- 
nised loo,  and  the  rocks  of  Scilly,  which 
it  had  not,  up  to  that  time,  occurred  to 
any  learned  gentleman,  or  commissioner^ 
to  repress  as  immoral,  in  order  to  atone 
for  that  rapacity,  which  was  daily  en- 
gaged in  illegally  extorting  large  sums 
from  the  poorest  and  most  unfortunate 
classes  in  society. 

Henry  attended  Alexandrioa  to  all  the 
scenes  of  amusement  which  she  was  dis- 
posed to  visit,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hanson 
were  decidedly  of  opinion,  that  the 
young  people  were  rapidly  becoming 
very  agreeable  to  each  other,  and  could 
perceive,  so  far  as  they  were  concern- 
ed, no  obstacle  to  the  completion  of 
their  wishes.  But  they  deceived  them- 
selves. Though  Henry  felt  no  repug- 
nance to  the  society  of  Miss  Hanson, 
when  politeness  required  that  he  should 
accompany  her  to  a  ball  or  concert  5  he 
had  too  vivid  a  recollection  of  what  he 


CALTHORPE.  119 

had  heard  and  observed  on  the  day  of 
their  departure,  to  be  dazzled  by  her 
charms.  On  the  part  of  Alexandrina, 
there  was  a  restless  consciousness  that 
forbad  her  to  feel  perfectly  at  ease  with 
Henry,  She  could  not  persuade  herself, 
either  that  the  confusion  in  v  hich  she 
had  appeared  before  him  had  escaped  his 
observation,  or  that  he  was  at  a  loss  to 
guess  its  cause.  Each  endeavoured  to 
act  a  civil,  cheerful  part  i  i  the  presence 
of  the  other  ;  but  a  coldness  and  an 
awkward  embarrassment  lurked  behind, 
which  were  not  to  be  subdued. 

To  a  mind  free  from  care,  Brighton  has 
many  charms,  and  Henry  failed  not  to 
enjoy  them  all.  He  was  extremely  well 
satisfied  with  the  excursion  ;  and,  to  say 
truth,  had  he  not  been  so,  he  must  have 
been  very  difficult  to  please ;  for  the  Han- 
sons spared  no  expense  to  provide  a  va- 
riety of  entertainments  for  his  gratifica- 
tion ;  and  the  ingenuity  with  wliich  they 
devised  means  for  wasting  money  here, 


120  CALTHORPE. 

was  equal  to  that  which  they  displayed 
in  collecting  it  elsewhere. 

While  at  Brighton,  he  received  seve- 
ral  communications  from  home  ;  but  one 
evening,  on  returning  from  a  concert,  he 
was  surprised  by  a  letter  of  very  unusual 
length  from  his  father ;  and  on  perusing 
it,  he  found  that  it  related  to  matters  of 
no  common  interest,  as  the  reader  may 
collect  from  the  following  extracts. 

'«  A  circumstance,"  said  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh, has  occurred,  which  disturbs  me 
much,  and  you  will  participate  in  my 
surprise  and  anxiety,  when  I  inform  you 
that  a  strange  and  singularly  mysterious 
attempt  has  been  made  to  carry  off  your 
sister,  which  attempt  has  been  as  mys- 
teriously defeated.  Walking  on  the 
banks  of  the  river,  in  the  evening  of 
Wednesday  last,  Harriet  was  my  com- 
panion, and  the  fineness  of  the  weather 
induced  us  to  prolong  our  stay  till 
twilight.  Some  object  attracted  your 
sister's  notice,  and  I  perceived  not  that 


CALTHORPE.  121 

she  had  relinquished  my  arm,  till  having 
partly  ascended  the  hill  by  our  favourite 
walk,  I  thought  I  heard  a  shriek,  and 
starting  at  the  sound,  found  myself 
alone.  I  retraced  my  steps,  but  could 
no  where  see  Harriet.  The  walk  was 
completely  deserted,  the  river  was  undis- 
turbed by  a  single  splash,  and  no  sound 
in  its  vicinity  interrupted  the  profound 
repose  of  nature.  The  alarm  which  I 
experienced  I  strove  to  subdue,  and 
judging  that  the  object  of  my  solicitude 
had  mistaken  the  path  to  the  right,  for 
that  which  I  had  taken,  I  flattered 
myself,  that  on  reaching  home,  1  should 
find  she  had  arrived  before  me.  The 
hope  proved  vain,  and  with  agony  and 
alarm,  I  again  hastened  to  the  banks  of 
the  Thames,  souglit  her  in  all  the  places 
to  which  I  conceived  it  possible  that  she 
might  have  wandered,  but  the  search 
was  unavailing.  It  appears,  that  the 
moment  I  began  to  ascend  the  hill,  two 
ruffians  sprang  on  her,   thrust  a  hand- 

VOL,  I.  G 


V2^  CALtnouPE, 

kerchief  into  her  mouth,  and  forced  hef 
to  a  boat.  Before  I  could  return  the 
first  time,  they  had  concealed  themselves 
behind  one  of  the  small  ozier-crowned 
heights,  where  they  remained  in  silence, 
till  I  had  retired.  Then  passing  down 
the  river  with  the  tide,  it  seemed  to  be 
their  intention  to  convey  her  to  London, 
Below  Fulham,  one  of  them  snapped  the 
oar  with  which  he  was  rowing.  This 
proved  a  serious  impediment  to  the  ex- 
ecution of  their  design.  They  endea- 
voured to  make  the  boat-hook  supply  its 
place,  but  proceeded  so  slowly,  and  with 
such  fatigue,  that  the  person  to  whom 
the  accident  had  happened,  breaking  the 
silence,  till  then  observed,  declared  with 
an  oath,  *  that  it  was  of  no  use  ;  they 
should  never  get  to  town  in  that  way, 
and  he  would  go  on  shore  and  procure 
another  oar.'  They  were  by  this  time 
near  Chelsea,  in  a  part  of  the  river  that 
is  overhung  by  thick  tufted  trees,  on  the 
Middlesex   side.      The  night  was  very 


CALTHORPE.  1^3 

dark,  and  the  boat  having  been  cautiously 
put  in,  one  of  them  went  ashore,  and, 
after  an  absence  of  some  minutes,  re- 
turned with  a  pair  of  sculls.  "  Of  what 
use  are  these,"  said  the  other,  in  a  very 
hoarse,  and  apparently  disguised  voice, 
and  with  much  displeasure.  "  Tlie  tide 
has  nov^  turned  against  us,  v^e  shall 
never  get  dow^n  with  these  things.'* 
While  speaking  he  left  the  boat,  as  if  to 
seek  himself  for  something  fitter  for  their 
purpose. 

"  Another  pause  occurred,  which  lasted 
longer  than  the  former.  The  fellow 
left  in  the  boat  became  impatient  of 
delay,  and  alarmed  for  the  fate  of  his 
associate. 

"  *  Come,  come,'  said  he,  as  he  saw 
a  figure  approach.  '  Stop  your  whimper- 
ing,' he  added,  addressing  himself  to 
Harriet,  who  sighed,  in  his  opinion,  too 
audibly. 

**  The  person  he  had  addressed  entered 

G  2 


124  CALTHORPE. 

the  wherry,  sat  down,  and  prepared  to 
row. 

"  ^  Well!  Have  you  succeeded  better?' 
said  the  other,  as  he  came  into  the  boat, 
*  but  I  need  not  ask,  as  I  see  you  come 
empty-handed.' 

<*  He  w^as  answered  by  a  shake  of  the 
head,  and  they  pushed  out  towards  the 
middle  of  the  river,  but  liad  not  got  far 
from  the  shore,  when  some  one  was 
heard  to  cough  on  the  bank  which  they 
had  just  left.  They  still  pulled  out ;  the 
cough  was  repeated,  and  followed  by  a 
peculiar  signal. 

"  Astonishment  and  confusion  seemed 
to  overwhelm  the  ruffian  who  had  been 
left  with  the  boat.  He  paused  ;  and  the 
signal  from  the  shore  was  repeated. 

"  *  What  is  that?'  he  exclaimed* 

"  His  companion  was  silent ;  but  made 
a  sign  for  him  to  row  on. 

*'  '  Did  you  hear  nothing  ?' 

**  A  shake  of  the  head,  and  a  motion 
of  the  hand,  that  seemed  to  indicate  an 


CALTHORPE.  1Q5 

opinion  that  what  had  been  heard  was 
unworthy  of  attention,  was  the  only  re- 

ply- 

"  '  If  you  were  not  here  I  should 
swear  that  you  were  now  on  shore  calling 
to  me.     There  again —  did  you  ever  hear 

any  thing  so  like ?  —  You  can't  be 

there,  because  you  are  here — but  stay — 
is  it  you  ?  —  Ha !  —  Who  in  the  name  of 
all  the  devils  in  hell  are  you  ? — No  shake 
of  the  head  will  do  —  Speak — What  are 
you  ?' 

*«  «  A  man,'  replied  the  stranger ;  and 
at  the  same  moment  he  seized  the  baffled 
villain  by  the  throat.  The  suddenness  of 
the  attack,  added  to  the  confusion  which 
had  previously  overwhelmed  the  ruffian, 
disabled  him  from  answering  it  with  any 
corresponding  effort  5  and,  reeling  back- 
wards, he  fell  over  the  seat  which  he 
had  just  occupied,  while  his  head  en- 
countered the  edge  of  the  boat  with  vio- 
lence, and  before  he  had  time  to  recover 
G  3 


1^6 


CALTHORPE. 


the  assailant  fairly  threw  him  over  the 
side. 

<*  On  finding  himself  in  the  water,  the 
wretch  attempted  to  cling  to  the  boat. 
The  stranger  raised  the  oar,  and  menaced 
him  with  a  blow. 

"  '  Let  me  hang  here,'  he  roared,  in  a 
supplicating  tone. 

"  '  No  J  you  must  hang  somewhere 
else  ;'  the  other  coolly  replied* 

"  *  But  I  cannot  swim.' 

<* '  Then  sink  j'  and  the  threatened 
blow  descending  on  his  hand,  compelled 
him  to  relinquish  his  hold  ;  and,  turning 
about,  he  at  once  proved  that  his  late 
appeal  merited  precisely  the  attention  it 
had  received,  by  swimming  towards  the 
shore. 

"  The  stranger  now  put  the  boat  round, 
and  went  with  the  tide.  His  questions 
were  few  and  brief.  Anxiety  to  get 
to  some  distance  from  those  he  appre- 
hended might  pursue,  dictated  a  great 
exertion  in  the  first  instance,  and  left 


CALTHORPE.  127 

him  little  leisure  to  speak.  The  silence 
of  Harriet,  when  he  did  address  himself 
to  her,  he  was  rather  at  a  loss  to  in- 
terpret, as,  from  the  gloom  which  pre- 
vailed, he  did  not  perceive  that  she  had 
been  gagged  by  the  miscreants  from 
whom  he  had  so  gallantly  rescued  her. 

"  He  at  length  discovered  the  violence 
with  which  she  had  been  treated,  and  re- 
lieved her  from  the  torture  to  which  she 
had  been  subjected  for  some  hours. 
Your  sister  soon  recovered  sufficiently 
to  inform  him  of  the  circumstances  which 
had  placed  her  in  the  situation  above  de- 
scribed. He  started  at  the  name  of  Bur- 
leigh, and  seemed  in  that  moment  to 
experience  additional  astonishment  and 
satisfaction  at  tlie  result  of  his  extra- 
ordinary adventure,  but  said  nothing. 

"  In  truth  it  seemed  to  be  no  time  for 
words ;  for  a  boat,  rowed  by  two  men, 
was  fast  gaining  on  them,  and  they  be- 
lieved themselves  to  be  pursued.  This 
was  a  vain  alarm.  The  stranger,  though 
G  4 


128  CALTHORPE. 

greatly  fatigued,  as  it  should  seem,  from 
being  unaccustomed  to  such  exercise, 
continued  with  the  most  unremitting 
energy  his  generous  labours. 

*'  I  had  passed  a  melancholy  night. 
Though  hopeless  of  finding  her  where  I 
had  left  her,  thither  my  feet  uncon- 
sciously wandered,  after  every  fresh 
failure  in  another  quarter.  The  inutility 
of  further  search  on  that  spot  was  obvious 
while  I  was  there;  but  the  moment  I 
found  myself  at  a  distance  from  it,  I 
recollected  some  bush  or  nook  which  I 
had  failed  to  explore,  in  which,  by  pos- 
sibility, she  might  be  concealed;  and 
while  I  sent  messengers  in  every  di- 
rection, to  this  place  I  continued  to  re- 
turn myself. 

"  The  night  had  passed,  and  the  first 
gleam  of  day  bursting  from  the  east 
threw  a  silvery  paleness  over  the  broad 
surface  of  the  river,  on  the  margin  of 
which  I  had  passed  the  most  painful  hours 
of  my  life,  when  I  saw,  at  a  considerable 


CALTHORPE,  129 

distance,  a  boat  slowly  approaching  the 
bank  on  which  I  stood.  The  excruciating 
anxiety  which  I  endured,  made  me  on  the 
alert  to  gaze  at  any  object  moving  on  that 
stream,  by  means  of  which  I  could  not 
but  suspect  my  child  had  been  removed, 
but  the  tempest  of  hope  and  fear,  —  of 
cheerful  anticipation  and  frightful  appre- 
hension, which  filled  my  bosom,  when  I 
first  thought  I  could  distinguish  a  female, 
in  the  slowly  advancing  wherry  I  had  ob- 
served, it  would  be  folly  to  attempt  to 
describe.  And  still  more  vain  would  be 
the  effort  to  depict  the  unspeakable  trans* 
port  —  the  thrilling  ecstacy  —  the  over- 
whelming rapture,  with  which  I  saw 
myself  recognised,  and  a  few  moments 
afterwards  found  my  tears  of  joy  ming- 
ling with  those  of  my  restored  Harriet. 

**  But  in  the  tumult  of  my  happi- 
ness, I  could  not  subdue  astonishment  at 
the  manner  in  which  I  had  been  deprived 
of  the  object  of  my  solicitude,  and  at  the 
way  in  which  she  had  returned.  On  these 
G  5 


130  CALTHORrE. 

subjects  I  attempted  some  inquiries,  but 
the  emotion  of  Harriet  was  too  great  to 
admit  of  her  giving  me  ail  the  informa- 
tion I  desired.  What  1  could  learn  from 
her  was  contained  in  such  broken  sen- 
tences as  these,  while  tears  of  joy  seemed 
assiduous  to  wash  away  the  traces  of  those 
so  recently  extorted  by  bitter  sorrow. 

««  <  Oh  !  my  father.  —  You  know  not 
what  I  have  endured.  —  This  brave,  ge- 
nerous— but  for  him  your  daughter  was 
lost.  —  Villains  tore  me  from  you.  —  I 
should  have  seen  you  no  more,  but  for 
him — ' 

"  I  desired  her  to  calm  her  transports, 
and  addressing  myself  to  the  stranger, 
requested  to  know  from  him  what  had 
taken  place.  He  answered  rather  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  *  Excuse  me.  Sir ;  though  anxious  to 
afford  you  any  satisfaction  in  my  power, 
I  can  tell  you  nothing  which  you  may  not 
hear  from  Miss  Burleigh,  when  her  pre- 
sent agitation  subsides.      Accident  af- 


CALTHORPE.  131 

forded  me  the  happiness  of  preventing 
the  completion  of  the  atrocious  outrage, 
in  part  committed  on  your  daughter. 
Who  the  parties  were,  I  fear  you  will 
not  easily  discover,  for  they  are  equally 
unknown  to  Miss  Burleigh,  and  to  me. 
I  have  no  more  to  say,  but  must  imme- 
diately take  my  leave.''  — 

"  '  So  suddenly  1'  I  exclaimed  —  *  Nay, 
I  must  entreat  you  to  accompany  me  to 
that  humble  home,  so  lately  desolate, 
which,  through  your  heroism,  is  again 
the  seat  of  happiness,' 

"  *  I  must  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of 
accepting  your  invitation.  My  duty  calls 
me  hence,  and  that  stated,  I  am  certain 
you  would  not  counsel  delay.' 

"  *  But  at  least  take  some  refreshment.' 

"  *  I  want  none.  The  consciousness  of 
having  been  of  service  to  Miss  Burleigh, 
is  enough  to  sustain  me,  and  food  or  wine 
is  superfluous.  I  have  only  now  to  bid 
you  adieu.' 

*  "  First  tell  me  when  1  may  hope  to 
G  6 


132  CALTHORPE. 

have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again. 
Name  some  day,  when  I  may  expect  the 
honour  of  your  company." 

"  '  I  cannot.' 

"  *  But  let  me  have  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing you  soon.    Will  you  promise  that  ?' 

"  <  I  do  not  promise  ;  but  in  all  proba- 
bility you  will  see  me  very  shortly.' 

"  «  May  I  not  know  the  name  of  the 
individual  to  whom  I  am  so  largely  in- 
debted ?' 

«  <  Forgive  me,  Sir,  but!  would  rather 
that  it  should  be  concealed,  though,  that 
you  will  shortly  know  it,  I  have  very  little 
doubt.' 

^*  « But,  should  the  offending  parties  be 
discovered,  your  presence  may  be  of  the 
greatest  possible  importance.  May  I  not 
know  where  to  address  you  on  such  an 
occasion  ?' 

"  *  An  advertisement  in  the  Morning 
Chronicle,  will  meet  my  eye,  and  in  such 
a  case,  I  will  immediately  be  forth- 
coming.' 


CALTHORPE.  133 

"  '  But  not  knowing  your  name,  how 
shall  I  address  you  ?' 

"  *  By  any  name,  or  initials  you  please. 
Say  A.  B.  —  I  now  take  my  leave/ 

"  And,  with  these  words,  he  disengaged 
his  hand,  which  I  had  anxiously  held, 
and  bowed  in  return  to  the  expressions 
of  thankfulness  which  Harriet  addressed 
to  him.  He  gazed  with  a  pensive  earnest- 
ness on  her  face  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
as  by  a  great  effort,  tore  himself  away.  — 
I  could  not  help  calling  after  him  — 

"  «  If  I  should  have  no  oppportunity 
of  addressing  you  as  A.  B.  I  shall  expect 
you  to  return,  at  all  events.' 

'*  *  Never,  never  !* 

*<  These  words  were  uttered  with  a  reso- 
lute air,  and  a  moment  after  he  vanished, 
taking  the  road  to  the  bridge,  and  pro- 
ceeding  with  extraordinary  rapidity.  His 
conduct  surprised  me  not  a  little.  That 
he  should  decline  telling  the  tale  of  his 
own  courage,  was  to  be  expected  from 
one  capable  of  acting  as  he  had  acted, 


134  CALTHOItPE, 

but  the  refusal  to  communicate  his  name 
and  residence  is  not  to  be  accounted  for 
in  the  same  way.  Though  his  dress  was 
much  disordered  by  the  violent  exertion 
he  had  undergone,  and  his  face  flushed 
with  the  heat  consequent  upon  it,  I 
consider  him  to  have  a  fine  person,  and 
his  every  word  and  gesture  attested  the 
education  and  the  habits  of  a  gentleman. 
"  The  alarm  had  been  sounded  far  and 
wide,  and  the  moment  it  was  known  that 
my  daughter  had  been  found,  my  neigh- 
hours  began  to  crowd  round  me.  Fore- 
most, among  these,  was  Sir  James  Den- 
ville.  The  stranger  was  hardly  out  of 
sight,  when  the  Baronet  made  his  ap- 
pearance, and  was  much  hurt  that  I  had 
not  called  on  him  to  assist  in  the  search 
which  I  had  been  led  to  undertake.  He 
regretted,  even  more  than  I  did,  the 
precipitate  retreat  of  the  deliverer  of 
Harriet  —  enquired  his  description,  and 
pursued  him,  on  horseback,  but  without 
success.     On  his  return,  the  anxiety  he 


CALTHORPE.  135 

had,  in  the  first  instance,  expressed  to 
testify  his  gratitude  to  the  stranger,  had, 
in  a  great  measure,  given  place  to  a  less 
amiable  feeling.  From  the  questions 
which  he  pressed  on  Harriet,  and  the 
incredulity  which  his  manner  indicated, 
while  listening  to  some  of  her  replies,  it 
was  clear  that  he  had  a  lurking  sus- 
picion that  she  had  not  been  forced 
away,  and  that  your  sister  knew  more 
of  her  preserver  than  she  chose  to  avow. 
In  no  other  way  could  I  account  for  the 
rigorous  examination  to  which  he  was 
disposed  to  subject  her.  I  found  it 
necessary  to  interfere,  at  last,  by  telling 
him  that  the  questions  he  was  then  en- 
gaged  in  putting,  were  unnecessary ; 
that  the  guileless  character  of  Harriet 
was  known  to  me,  if  not  to  him  j  and 
that  I  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  her 
statement.  Upon  this  he  apologised, 
confessed  his  error,  and  imputed  to  the 
anxiety  of  sincere  affection,  the  offence 
of  which  he  had  been  guilty. 


136  CALTHORPE. 

"  Of  Sir  James  Denville  I  have  much 
to  say.  Certain  transactions  connect  him 
with  me,  which  you  ought  to  be  made 
acquainted  with,  as,  in  the  event  of  my 
sudden  decease,  you  might  be  much  em- 
barrassed for  want  of  that  information 
which  I  ought  to  communicate.  When 
I  say  this,  do  not  suppose  that  I  have 
any  presentiment  my  Hfe  is  about  to 
terminate.  Thank  God,  I  was  never  in 
better  health,  I  am  particular  in  stating 
this,  that  your  sensibility  may  not  take 
the  alarm,  as  it  did  on  a  former  occasion, 
when  my  dissolution  happened  to  be  the 
subject  of  consideration.  I  feel  no  par- 
ticular apprehension,  at  this  time  ;  but  a 
rational  man,  who  knows  that  he  cannot 
be  removed  from  life  without  materially 
changing  the  situation  and  the  prospects 
of  those  who  are  dear  to  him,  ought  to 
make  those  arrangements^  which  may  be 
necessary  for  their  welfare,  before  the 
pangs  of  disease  have  assailed  his  facultieSj 
and,  in  some  measure,  disqualified  him  foi> 


CALTHORPE.  137 

the  important  task.  It  is  with  this  im- 
pression on  my  mind,  that  I  feel  anxious 
to  see  you,  when  you  can  return  without 
deranging  the  plans  of  those  you  are  with, 
and  to  whose  kindness  and  friendship  you 
hold  yourself  to  be  so  largely  indebted." 
Henry  read  the  letter  w^hich  brought 
this  unexpected  intelligence,  with  in- 
tense interest.  The  attempt  to  carry  off 
his  sister,  filled  him  with  astonishment 
and  indignation  ;  and,  in  the  first  trans- 
ports of  his  rage,  he  determined  on 
leaving  Brighton  instantly,  to  seek  for 
some  clue  by  which  he  might  bring  the 
villains  to  punishment.  But  on  reflec- 
tion, he  thought  it  would  be  unkind  to 
the  Hansons,  abruptly  to  break  up  their 
party,  which  he  w^as  convinced  he  should 
do  if  he  took  his  departure  then,  he 
reflected,  that  his  father  was  fully  com- 
petent to  adopt  every  necessary  pre- 
caution to  guard  against  a  recurrence  of 
the  danger  to  w^hich  Harriet  had  been 
exposed,    and    also   to  take    the    most 


138  CALTHORPE, 

effectual  steps  for  discovering  the  ruffians 
who  had  carried  her  off.  These  con- 
siderations enabled  him  to  subdue  the 
impatience  he  felt  to  see  home,  and  to 
make  up  his  mind  to  remain  at  Brighton 
till  the  Hansons  were  disposed  to  termi- 
nate their  excursion.  He  wrote  to  this 
effect ;  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hanson,  in- 
formed  of  what  had  happened,  regaled 
him  with  a  scene  of  well-acted  sympathy 
and  sent  to  Richmond  without  delay, 
their  letter  of  condolence  and  con- 
gratulation, 


CALTHORPE.  139 


CHAP.  VIIL 


«  »Tis  fit 
That  they  each  other  plague,  they  merit  it. 
But  here  comes  Glorious,  that  will  plague  *em  both^ 
"   Who  in  the  other  extreme  only  doth 

Call  a  rough  carelessness  good  fashion.**  Donne, 

1  HOUGH  Henry  continued  to  enjoy  the 
pleasures  which  courted  him,  there  were 
intervals  when  his  anxiety  to  see  his 
father,  made  his  residence  at  Brighton 
intolerably  irksome,  and  as  yet,  he  heard 
nothing  of  the  period  at  which  they  were 
to  return. 

A  week  had  elapsed  since  the  receipt 
of  the  letter,  which  had  made  so  strong 
an  impression  on  his  mind,  when  the 
Deputy  proposed  a  tour  by  Lewes  and 
Newhaven,  and  to  make  the  treat  the 
greater,  he   determined   on  performing 


140  CALTHORPE. 

it  in  a  landau,  to  be  drawn  by  four 
donkies. 

The  eccentricity  of  the  plan  pleased 
the  ladies.  It  was  not  often  that  the 
Deputy  carried  a  motion  in  his  own 
family,  with  such  perfect  unanimity,  as 
prevailed  on  this  occasion.  At  the  ap- 
pointed time,  the  vehicle  was  brought 
forth  in  grand  style ;  the  tawdry  jackets 
of  the  postillions  were  decked  with  some 
additional  frippery  supplied  by  Mrs. 
Hanson  and  Alexandrina,  and  thus 
finished  off,  as  the  party  moved  majes- 
tically down  the  Steyne,  all  seemed  of 
opinion  with  the  Deputy,  that  the  exhi- 
tion  he  had  prepared,  was  really  what  he 
termed  it,  *'  a  most  superb  set  out," 

Their  little  journey  was  pleasant,  and 
undistinguished  by  one  of  those  upsets 
which  commonly  supply  a  delicious  inte- 
rest to  such  jaunts.  The  cattle  being 
remarkably  fine  (of  the  kind),  went  at  least 
at  the  rate  of  four  miles  an  hour,  which 
being  nearly  ^s  fast  as  a  man  can  wall^ 


CALTHORPE.  141 

without  unpleasant  exertion,  was  certainly 
pretty  well  for  a  donkey-drawn  vehicle  at 
Brighton. 

They  completed  their  journey  without 
accident)  and  without  meeting  with  any 
impediment  but  one.  On  the  road 
between  Newhaven  and  Rottingdean, 
the  donkies  thought  proper  to  conspire 
against  their  drivers,  and  all,  as  by  com- 
mon consent,  stood  still.  The  postillions 
applied  their  w^hips  to  no  purpose,  and 
the  Deputy,  incensed  at  their  obstinacy, 
which  was  certainly  very  disrespectful, 
undertook  to  assist  them  with  his  stick, 
and  began  to  belabour  the  refractory  ani- 
mals with  great  impetuosity. 

"  Have  pity  on  your  Jellow  creatures  /** 
cried  some  one  from  a  thicket,  at  a  short 
distance  from  the  road. 

The  Deputy  started,  for  he  thought  he 
knew  the  sound  full  well ;  but  looking  to 
the  spot  whence  it  proceeded,  he  saw  a 
gang  of  gypseys,  and  supposing  what  he 
had  heard  to  be  an  appeal  to  his  compas- 


142  CALTHORPE. 

sion  from  one  of  them,  he  followed  up 
his  blows  with  much  animation,  and 
without  deigning  to  give  the  supposed 
beggar  any  answer.  The  cattle  were 
resolute  not  to  stir,  Mr.  Hanson  was 
determined  not  be  conquered,  and  all  the 
vigour  of  his  arm  was  felt  in  turn,  by 
each  unfortunate  ass  ;  but  it  was  again 
arrested  by  the  voice  he  had  heard  be- 
fore, and  which  now  complimented  his 
labours,  by  reciting  the  following  lines 
from  Dr.  Watts's  songs  : 

"  The  devil  tempts  one  mother's  son 
To  rage  against  another, 
So  wicked  Cain  was  hurried  on 
'Till  he  had  killed  his  brothei\'' 

The  Deputy  paused  again. 

"  Don't  commit  fratricide,"  the  speaker 
continued,  and  Pierrepoint  now  made  his 
appearance  from  the  bushes,  among  which 
he  had  been  seated  with  the  gypseys. 

"  Pierrepoint !"  exclaimed  the  Deputy, 
"  What  brought  you  here  ?" 

<<  The  Comet,  I  believe  they  call  it, 


CALTHORPE.  143 

with  four  horses,  running  from  London  to 
Brighton." 

"  Well  but  on  what  occasion." 
"  Business  of  importance  that  could 
not  be  arranged  by  letter.  At  Brighton 
I  learnt  the  route  you  had  taken,  and 
came  this  way  intending  to  walk  to  New- 
haven  to  meet  you.  I  recognised  you 
from  the  description  given  of  your  equip- 
age, when  you  were  on  the  top  of 
yonder  hill ;  determined  to  wait  for  you 
here ;  and,  not  to  lose  time,  sat  down  to 
have  my  fortune  told  by  the  strollers  you 
see  in  my  company, 

"  I  hope  you  have  received  satisfaction 
from  them." 

"  I  have  ;— these  itinerant  astrologers 
sell  knowledge,  wealth,  and  importance, 
cheap.  They  have  made  me  a  great 
man,  and  given  me  a  handsome  lady 
with  an  immense  fortune,  for  half  a 
crown." 

"  But  how  can  you  reconcile  it  to 
your  conscience,  to  encourage,  by  your 


144  CALTHORPE. 

example,  these  gangs  of  impostors.  Those 
who  set  the  example  of  attending  to  them 
do  mischief." 

"  Perhaps  you  think  the  pernicious 
tendency  of  my  conduct,  was  the  cause 
of  the  difference  between  you  and  the 
asses  that  draw  your  vehicle." 

"  I  don't  say  that ,  but  this  I  may  re- 
mark, that  they  stopped  in  an  instant  on' 
seeing  you,  as  if  they  felt  it  would  be 
indecorous  to  pass  an  old  friend." 

*'  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  assign  them 
so  creditable  a  motive.  It  is  not  every 
ass  in  a  landau  that  would  stop  to  notice 
a  pedestrian  acquaintance.  But  '  to  quit 
this  keen  encounter  of  our  tongues,'  as 
we  are  not  more  than  four  miles  from 
Brighton,  had  you  not  better  give  your 
reluctant  beasts  a  bounty  to  proceed,  by 
relieving  them  from  your  company.  If 
you  do  this,  and  walk  with  me,  on  our 
way  I  can  explain  the  cause  of  my 
being  here,  without  fatiguing  the  ladies 
with    details  of  commercial    affairs.      1 


CALTHORPE.  145 

can  make  you  acquainted  with  what  I 
have  to  communicate,  so  that  there  shall 
be  no  impediment  in  the  way  of  your 
amusements  by  the  time  we  reach  the 
Steyne/' 

For  once,  Pierrepoint  heard  what  he 
had  said  received  with  universal  ap- 
plause. The  reasonableness  of  the  pro- 
position seemed  to  be  admitted  by  the 
donkies  themselves  :  they  no  longer  re- 
fused to  advance  ;  and  the  suggested 
arrangement  was  on  the  instant  carried 
into  effect. 

On  their  way,  the  Deputy  received 
such  explanations  from  Pierrepoint  as 
more  than  satisfied  him  of  the  propriety 
of  the  step  which  the  latter  had  taken 
in  coining  to  Brighton ;  and  he  sincerely 
praised  the  alacrity  displayed  in  his  ser- 
vice. 

The  whole  party  were  in  high  spirits, 
when,  after. an  absence  of  thirty  hours, 
they  again  entered  Brigliton.  Pierre- 
point, having  accomplished  the  object  of 

VOL.  I.  H 


146  GALTHORPE. 

his  journey,  took  his  place  to  go  by  the 
stage,  which  was  to  start  for  London  on 
the  following  morning,  and  joined  the 
Deputy  and  his  family  at  dinner.  He 
was  exceedingly  well  received  by  the 
ladies,  and  Henry  thought  his  mannei" 
more  courteous  than  usual,  though  to 
him  he  was  as  reserved  and  distant  as 
ever.  Once  or  twice  he  found  Pierre- 
point*s  stedfast  gaze  resting  on  his  face  ; 
and  a  suspicion  crossed  his  mind,  that 
this  was  occasioned  by  resentment,  for 
the  surprise  and  embarrassment  which  he 
had  reason  to  believe  that  he  and  Alexan- 
drina  had  experienced  from  his  unex- 
pected approach  on  the  morning  of  the 
Deputy's  departure. 

The  attempt  to  carry  off  Harriet  be- 
came the  subject  of  conversation. 

««  I  should  feel  just  as  your  father,  my 
friend  Burleigh,  does,"  said  Mr.  Hanson, 
addressing  himself  to  Henry,  "  exceed- 
ingly vexed,  at  not  being  able  to  ascer- 
tain,    to    w^om    I    stood    indebted   for 


CALTHORPE.  147 

SO  important  a  service  as  that  rendered 
by  the  stranger." 

"  And  so  should  I,"  cried  Mrs.  Han- 
son. 

"  And  so  should  I,"  chimed  in  Alex- 
andrina. 

Henry  remarked  it  would  afford  him 
sincere  pleasure,  to  thank  the  deliverer 
of  his  sister. 

The  Deputy  and  his  wife  declared  it 
to  be  their  opinion,  that  it  was  a  very 
gallant  action  that  he  had  performed. 

"  In    my  opinion  it  was  most   noble 
and  heroic,''  said  Alexandrina.    "  Don't 
you  think  so,  Mr.  Pierrepoint  ?" 
"  No." 

"  No  !"  repeated  the  lady,  burlesquing 
the  cool  indifference  with  which  Pierre- 
point  had  made  his  response.  "  Why 
what  a  churl  you  grow  1  Will  you  allow 
merit  to  no  one  ?" 

"  I  will  allow  it  where  I  see  it." 
"  Pierrepoint  is  naturally  slow  in  dis- 
covering any  thing  great  or  good  in  the 
H  2 


148  CALTHORPE. 

conduct  of  others/'  observed  Mr.  Han- 
son. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  too  true,  for  I  find 
so  few  opportunities  of  giving  praise^ 
that  I  begin  to  suspect  men  must  be 
better  than  they  appear  in  my  eyes." 

"  YourbHndness,"  said  Henry,  "must 
indeed  be  calamitous,  if,  in  this  instance, 
you  can  perceive  nothing  laudable.  The 
conduct  of  the  brave  stranger,  whoever 
he  may  be,  is  that  on  which  I  should 
have  thought  there  could  be  no  differ- 
ence of  opinion." 

"  I  should  have  thought  so  too  :  it 
appears  to  me  very  proper  conduct  ;  but 
I  see  nothing  extraordinary  in  it." 

"  Indeed !  If  such  actions  are  com- 
mon, I  wonder  you  should  think  so 
meanly  of  mankind." 

<*  Such  occasions,"  Mr.  Burleigh,  "  are 
uncommon.  The  stranger  who  interposed 
was  favoured  by  the  extraordinary  situa- 
tion  in    which   he   found   himself,    and 


CALTHORPE*  HQ 

which  threw  a  lustre  on  his  exertions 
which  did  not  of  right  belong  to  them/* 

"  Those  exertions,  though,  were  such, 
that  I  beheve  you  would  not  find  it  easy 
to  imitate  them,''  observed  the  Deputy, 
with  that  impatience  which  a  friend  to 
free  discussion  usually  feels,  when  any 
one  differs  from  the  opinion  which  he 
has  thought  proper  to  express, 

"  Their  character  is  not  to  be  ascer- 
tained by  my  merits  or  deficiencies. 
Actions  may  be  superior  to  any  thing  I 
could  achieve,  and  yet  have  no  claim  to 
.admiration.  To  me  it  seems,  that  the 
deliverance  of  Miss  Burleigh  was  fortu- 
nately, very  fortunately,  effected  by  an 
effort  purely  common-place." 

"  You  jest,''  said  Henry,  "  or  this  is 
said  in  the  very  spirit  of  wanton  detrac- 
tion. A  stranger  perceives  a  female  in 
the  power  of  two  ruffians  ;  he  flies  to  her 
relief  by  the  most  judicious  means ;  he 
triumphs!  and,  with  great  and  almost 
overwhelming  toil,  he  restores  her  to  her 
H  3 


150  CALTHORPE. 

friends,  whom  he  flies,  lest  they  should 
attempt  to  reward  his  heroism.  Here, 
then,  is  a  splendid  instance  of  humanity, 
courage,  presence  of  mind,  and  generosity, 
combined  in  the  same  individual;  and 
this  display,  so  honourably  and  unosten- 
tatiously made,  is,  according  to  you,  but 
a  purely  common-place  effort." 

"  Nothing  more,  I  protest.  A  be- 
nighted idler,  is,  by  some  accident, 
brought  where  he  perceives  a  female  in 
distress,  and  is  disposed  to  relieve  her. 
What  great  humanity  is  there  here  ?  It 
only  shows  that  he  was  not  a  monster. 
The  two  ruffians  you  speak  of  his  having 
triumphed  over,  it  is  to  be  remembered, 
he  did  not  attack  together.  Having 
passed  into  the  boat,  he  could  have  to 
contend  with  but  one ;  who,  in  the  first 
instance,  laboured  under  this  disadvan- 
tage, that  he  was  not  apprehensive  of 
danger.  What  you  then  consider  a  bril- 
liant instance  of  courage,  seems  to  me, 
at  most,  to  prove  that  this  person  was 


CALTHORPE.  151 

not  a  coward.  The  presence  of  mind 
with  which  he  got  rid  of  the  ruffian, 
who  had  risen  for  the  purpose  of  eject- 
ing him  from  the  boat,  seems  to  have 
been  merely  a  random  exertion,  called 
forth  by  the  unexpected  peril  of  the  mo- 
ment ;  and,  that  he  finally  retired  with- 
out waiting  for  a  reward,  proves  no  more 
than  this,  that  he  had  too  much  sense 
to  tarnish  a  tolerable  action,  by  stooping 
to  conduct  which  would  have  covered 
any  person  above  the  rank  of  waterman 
to  a  hackney-coach  stand  with  indelible 
disgrace.'* 

"  I  do  not  think  it  well,"  returned 
Henry,  "  that  the  merit  of  a  bold  and 
humane  action  should  be  thus  coldly 
reasoned  away.  Unquestionably  it  is  the 
duty  of  all  men  to  do  good  ;  but  where  a 
man,  in  the  cause  of  a  helpless  female, 
exposes  himself  to  great  personal  risk, 
which  he  might  avoid  without  reproach, 
courts  peril,  and  with  disinterested  mo- 
desty flies  from  reward,  he  can  be  no 
H  4 


15^  CALTHORPE, 

common-place  character.  No  man  ought 
to  think  meanly  of  such  conduct,  till, 
having  been  placed  in  a  like  situation, 
and  come  triumphantly  out  of  it,  he  has 
ascertained  what  his  own  conduct  would 
be." 

"  After  what  has  been  so  ably  stated 
by  my  worthy  friend,  who  spoke  last,'^ 
said  the  Deputy,  "  I  am  sure  it  would 
be  presumption  in  me  to  detain  the 
court —  company  I  mean,  —  a  single  mo- 
ment, by  saying  — " 

"  That  you  entirely  agree  with  Mr. 
Burleigh.  Well,  be  it  so  ;  I  am  now  ren- 
dering a  service  to  two  ladies,  almost  as 
acceptable  as  that  for  which  Miss  Bur- 
leigh and  her  relations  are  so  grateful." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  That  that  standing  prologue  to  a 
long  speech  —  *  it  would  be  presumption 
in  me  to  detain  you  for  a  moment,*  has 
almost  frightened  Mrs.  Hanson  and 
Alexandrina  from  the  table,  from  dread 


CALTHORPE.  X^3 

of  a  rehearsal  of  one  of  your  Common- 
council  harangues." 

These  remarks  were  not  without  foun- 
dation.  The  ladies,  expecting  that  fear- 
ful visitation  with  which  Pierrepoint  had 
conceived  them  to  be  threatened,  were 
actually  beginning  to  prepare  for  a  re- 
treat. In  their  hearts  they  were  little 
disposed  to  quarrel  with  the  abruptness 
which  had  interrupted  the  orator  ;  but, 
from  anxiety  to  appear  all  harmony  be- 
fore Mr.  Burleigh,  they  denied  any  con- 
sciousness of  alarm,  while  the  Deputy  de- 
lighted and  relieved  them  exceedingly, 
by  suppressing  the  eloquence  he  had  re- 
solved to  display,  and  declaring  that  Mr. 
Pierrepoint  happened  to  be  completely 
out ;  for  all  he  had  to  say  was  comprised 
in  the  last  sentence  which  had  fallen 
from  Mr.  Burleigh,  and  merely  came  to 
to  this  —  "  that  it  would  be  time  enough 
for  those,  who  thought  little  of  that 
conduct,  which  had  been  the  subject  of 
their  conversation,  to  express  their  want 
H  5 


154  CALTHORPE. 

of  respect  for  it,  when  they  themselves 
had  been  placed  in  such  a  situation." 

Here  Mr.  Hanson  thought  he  was  say- 
ing  something  very  sarcastic.  He  ac- 
cordingly looked  significantly  at  Pierre- 
point,  that  it  might  not  be  lost ;  and 
finished  with  a  wink  at  the  ladies  ;  the 
meaning  of  which,  if  we  may  venture  to 
reduce  its  expression  to  words,  was,  — 
"  There  I  hit  him."  Considering  it,  how- 
ever, but  prudent,  to  guard  against  a 
retort,  which  Pierrepoint  was  likely 
enough  to  supply  without  hesitation  or 
ceremony,  he,  instead  of  waiting  for  an 
answer,  brought  the  conversation  to  a 
close  with  the  remark,  <*  At  all  events 
we  are  agreed  that  the  conduct  of  the 
stranger  was  good,  and  so  I  propose  to 
terminate  our  controversy,  by  fiUing  a 
glass  to  his  health." 

"  I  will  drink  it  in  a  bumper,"  said 
Henry,  pouring  one  out  while  he  spoke, 
and  forwarding  the  decanter  to  Pierre- 
point." 


CALTHORPE.  155 

"  Pierrepoint,  will  do  the  same,  I  dare 
say,"  Alexandrina  remarked. 

"  O !  certainly  !  I  have  not  the  least 
objection  to  drink  to  the  health  of  a  man, 
though  I  think  him  no  hero." 

"  Well,  Pierrepoint,  I  am  glad  you  join 
cordially  with  us  at  last.  But  come  now, 
to  own  the  truth,  don't  you  think  there 
was  something  very  extraordinary  in  one 
part  of  his  conduct  ?  There  was  a  sort  of 
mystery  about  his  departure,  which 
makes  me  curious  to  know  who  and  what 
he  was,"  said  the  Deputy. 

**  I  see  nothing  remarkable  in  it." 

"  What,  not  in  his  concealing  his 
name  ?" 

'^  No." 

"  Well  now,"  said  Mrs.  Hanson, 
<*  from  that  one  circumstance,  if  ever 
the  truth  comes  out,  I  dare  say  it  will 
prove  that  he  is  a  person  of  no  small  con- 
sequence." 

"  I  am  of  your  opinion,  my  dear." 

*«  It  would  not  greatly  surprise  me," 
H  6 


156  CALTHORPE, 

Henry  added,  "  from  the  description 
which  my  father  gives  of  his  conduct 
and  deportment." 

"  Alexandrina  enjoyed  this  touch  of 
mystery  wonderfully,  and  improving  on 
all  that  had  been  said,  she  exclaimed  — 
O  !  delightful !  Perhaps  it  may  be  some 
Marquis  or  Duke.'' 

"  It  is  likely  enough  that  he  is  a  person 
of  rank,"  the  Deputy  shrewdly  remark- 
ed ;  "  and,  on  that  account,  he  might  be 
desirous  of  concealing  his  name,  in  the 
first  instance." 

"  It  is  equally  probable,"  Pierrepoint 
provokingly  replied,  "  that  he  is  a  person 
of  no  rank,  and  of  little  respectability, 
who  prudently  withheld  his  name  to  con- 
ceal his  humble  circumstances." 

*'  Now,"  said  the  Deputy,  in  a  tone 
of  plaintive  expostulation,  "  this  is  too 
bad.  When  any  thing  transpires  that 
claims  the  admiration  of  others,  you 
first  disparage  the  act  performed,  and, 
not  content  with  that,  in  the  spirit  of  illibe- 


OALTHOFvPE.  157 

ral  opposition,  you  next  suppose  the  actor 
to  be  some  wretched  low-lived  fellow." 

"  You  can  have  no  just  reason  for 
coming  to  such  a  conclusion,"  Henry 
remarked,  with  some  asperity. 

**  I  have  said  nothing  about  his  being 
a  wretched  low-lived  fellow.  This  is 
merely  a  flourish  of  the  Deputy's  elo- 
quence. I  have  done  the  person  no 
wrong,  in  supposing  that  his  circum- 
stances may  not  be  the  most  favourable 
that  can  be  imagined.  Perhaps  he  was 
a  poor  man,  who  was  obliged  to  run 
away  in  a  hurry  to  attend  his  employer's 
counting-house  in  the  morning.  This  I 
say,  and  saying  this,  I  pay  him  no  ill 
compliment ;  for,  surely,  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, to  conceal  his  name,  and 
retire  as  he  did,  though  what  most  men 
would  do  in  the  situation  I  have  sup- 
posed, was  nothing  to  his  discredit.  The 
actions  you  so  much  admire,  are  the 
same,  whether  they  were  performed  by 
a  peer  of  the  realm  or  a  porter  j  and  I 


158  €ALTHORPE. 

must  confess  that,  had  there  been  some- 
thing singularly  brilliant  in  them,  I  am 
so  vulgar  in  my  ideas,  that  I  should  not 
have  thought  that  they  could  have  been 
accomplished  only  by  a  Duke  or  a  Mar- 
quis. Connected  as  he  is  with  a  noble 
family,  such  an  idea  may  not  be  un- 
natural  in  Mr.  Burleigh  ;  but  plebeians 
of  very  humble  origin,  like  the  rest  of 
the  present  company,  may  be  excused 
for  asserting  the  capacity  of  persons  in 
their  own  condition  to  act  an  honest 
part,  as  well  as  their  more  fortunate 
fellow-creatures." 

Though  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hanson  were  as 
much  interested  in  having  this  doctrine 
upheld  as  Pierrepoint  himself  could  be, 
they  had  the  disinterestedness  to  feel 
very  indignant  at  his  having  broached  it. 
Whether  this  sprung  from  sheer  regard 
for  their  new  friend,  Mr.  Burleigh,  or  was, 
in  part,  caused  by  certain  recollections 
to  which  it  is  unnecessary  more  distinctly 
to  allude,  the  reader  is  at  liberty  to  judge 


CALTHORPE.  lo9 

for  himself.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  lu- 
minary which  shone  in  soHtary  glory  in 
the  upper  part  of  Mr.  Hanson's  coun- 
tenance, gained  in  an  instant  additional 
splendour,  while  the  Deputy's  face  ap- 
peared unusually  flushed,  and  the  fidgetty 
motion  of  his  right  leg  very  correctly 
imitated  that  by  which  a  knife-grinder 
turns  his  wheel.  Both  were  highly  in- 
censed, and  the  gathering  cloud  on  each 
brow  announced  a  coming  storm. 

"  As  to  very  humble  origin  — "  said 
Mrs.  Hanson. 

"  Aye,  as  to  very  humble  origin," 
echoed  the  Deputy,  "  I'll  tell  you  what, 
Mr.  Pierrepoint,  I  don't  know  what  you 
hint  at." 

"  I  hint  at  nothing." 

"  If  you  mean  to  insinuate  any  thing 
about  me  —  if  you  mean  to  insinuate  that 
— that  I  am  a  person  of  such  very  humble 


^*  I  mean  to  insinuate  nothing  of  the 


kind. 


60  CALTHORPE* 

**  What  then  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Broadly  to  assert  it,  should  I  see 
occasion  to  do  so." 

'*  Whatever  calumny  you  may  have 
picked  up  respecting  me,  if  you  know 
any  thing  of  my  ancestors *' 

"  It  is  more  than  you  do,  I  suspect." 

"  My  grandfather,  I  believe  was  as 
respectable  a  man  as  ever  lived." 

"  It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  his 
name  has  not  been  preserved." 

**  Let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  Pierrepoint," 
cried  Mrs.  Hanson,  marching  with  af- 
fectionate alacrity  to  the  relief  of  her 
discomfited  husband,  **  this  is  the  first 
time  that  ever  the  respectability  of  either 
of  our  families  was  questioned." 

"  It   has  not   been   questioned  now. 
Madam." 

"  In  every  respect  they  were  quite  as 
good  as  ourselves." 

<«  I  dare  say  they  were." 

<«  Whatever  you  may  dare  say,  nobody 
else  doubts  it." 


CALTHORPE.  161 

«  Nor  do  I,  Madam." 

"  Well,  then,  there  was  no  occasion  for 
throwing  out  any  of  your  sneers,"  added 
the  Deputy. 

"  I  threw  out  none,"  replied  Pierre- 
point,  and  thought  of  none.  Your  filial 
sensibility  is  easily  wounded.  1  meant 
no  disrespect  to  your  ancestors,  as  I  know 
nothing  of  them,  and  have  no  objection 
to  suppose  your  dynasty,  if  it  could  be 
traced,  would  prove  not  less  superb  than 
that  of  your  boating  hero.  At  any  rate, 
it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  I  can  look 
with  contempt  on  people  of  low  birth. 
Till  it  can  be  proved,  that  human  beings 
have  an  option  in  these  matters  before 
they  come  into  the  world,  I  shall  not 
think  the  birth  of  any  one  either  an  ho- 
nour, or  a  disgrace.  A  benefit  or  a  misfor- 
tune it  may  be,  but  it  ought  neither  to 
be  the  subject  of  admiration  or  reproach. 
Though  folly  may  be  vain  of  what  is  called 
high  birth,  and  pride  may  feel  a  ground* 
less  alarm,  when  accidentally  reminded 


162  CALTHORPE. 

of  that  which  ought  least  to  annoy,  ■—  a 
lowly  origin." 

Henry  felt  the  truth  of  most  of  these 
remarks,  though  he  could  not  but  think 
Pierrepoint  deficient,  both  in  good-nature 
and  good  manners,  for  urging  them  at 
that  moment.  This  he  did  not  scruple 
to  hint,  while  expressing  his  concurrence 
with  some  of  the  sentiments  which  had 
escaped  Pierrepoint  on  the  subject  of 
birth.  The  latter  admitted,  with  an  ap- 
pearance of  candour,  that  his  remarks 
might  have  been  but  indifferently  timed, 
and  unwilling  to  offend  again,  as  he  had 
now  but  a  short  period  to  remain  in 
Brighton,  he  said  he  would  relieve  them 
from  the  incumbrance  of  his  presence, 
and  kill  an  hour  or  two  on  the  Marine 
Parade. 

He  retired,  and  the  Deputy  and  his 
lady  became  as  usual  very  eloquent,  on 
his  want  of  politeness  and  good-nature. 
Both  commented,  with  great  animation 
and  feeling,  on  the  mean  and   envious 


CALTHORPE.  l63 

spirit  which  he  had  displayed,  when  the 
merits  of  the  stranger  were  the  theme  of 
admiration.  Henry  thought  his  conduct 
in  this  instance  remarkably  illiberal ;  and 
Mr.  Hanson  assured  him,  that  such  was 
always  his  way.  "  I  can  give  you  an  in- 
stance of  it,"  said  he,  "  that  will  prove 
what  he  is.  Once  I  had  made  a  speech 
at  Common  Hall,  which  was  very  much 
applauded  by  all  present,  and  praised  in 
the  newspapers  of  the  following  day  ;  so 
I  asked  him,  in  a  friendly  and  familiar 
way,  if  he  did  not  think,  after  such  suc- 
cess, I  might  some  day  stand  a  chance  of 
doing  something  in  Parliament.  What 
do  you  thinll^'  his  answer  was ;  why, 
"  he  did  not  conceive  that  my  eloquence 
was  of  that  sort  which  would  adorn  the 
senate;  but  if  I  continued  to  improve,  in 
the  same  way,  I  might  in  time  be  quali- 
fied to  show  the  wild  beasts  at  Exeter 
'Change.     Now  what  do  you  think  ?" 


164  CALTHORPE. 


CHAP.  IX. 


^*  Hope  was  nigh,  the  moonlight  beam'd, 
Soft  once  more  the  breezes  sighed ; 

Hope  was  nigh,  yet  hope  but  gleam*d 
Human  joy  is  sorrow's  guide." 

Roche. 


PiERREPOiNT  took  liis  departure  on  the 
following  morning.  Mr.  Hanson  had  been 
able  to  arrange  matters,  so  as  to  make  it 
unnecessary  for  him  to  return  immedi- 
ately ;  but  the  Deputy  now,  with  many 
expressions  of  regret,  announced,  that  it 
was  of  great  importance,  that  he  should 
be  in  town  in  the  course  of  the  week, 
Henry,  to  whom  this  was  communi- 
cated in  the  language  of  apology,  con- 
fessed, that  the  intelligence,  far  from 
being  unpleasant,  was  most  welcome,  as 
after  the  letter  which  he  had  received 


CALTHORPE.  165 

from  hi^  father,  and  the  wish  expressed 
to  see  him,  he  was  impatient  to  get  to 
Richmond  again. 

The  Deputy  now  gave  up  his  lodg- 
ings, and,  determined  to  throw  as  much 
variety  as  possible  into  their  last  week 
of  pleasure,  rambled  about  the  neigh- 
bourhood with  no  rule,  but  that  which 
the  prospect  of  amusement  dictated  at 
the  moment.  Lewes,  Worthing,  Little 
Hampton,  and  Arundel,  were  succes- 
sively honoui'ed  with  his  presence  ;  and 
when  at  length  the  party  nominally  set 
out  for  town,  it  was  determined  that 
on  their  rout  they  should  give  into  every 
deviation  from  the  regular  track,  that 
promised  novelty  or  interest. 

Acting  on  this  plan  it  was  not  till 
three  days  after  they  left  Brighton,  that 
they  arrived  at  Sutton.  There  they 
spent  one  day  at  the  snug  box  of  a 
retired  citizen,  the  particular  friend  of 
the  Deputy.  On  the  following  day  they 
were  to  proceed  on  their  journey  j  when 


166  CALTHORPE. 

in  consequence  of  the  Prince  having 
just  gone  down  to  his  favourite  retreat, 
there  had  been  such  a  demand  for  horses, 
that  Mr.  Hanson  could  obtain  none 
which  he  thought  it  consistent  with  his 
dignity  to  allow  the  honour  of  drawing 
his  family  and  friend  into  London. 

He  thereupon  resolved  to  remain  where 
he  was  till  the  following  morning.  But 
Henry  was  too  anxious  to  visit  his  fa- 
ther, to  feel  satisfied  with  this  arrange- 
ment, and  he  accordingly  requested  the 
Deputy  to  excuse  him  from  being  longer 
of  their  party  at  that  time,  as,  if  he 
would  not  feel  offended  at  his  doing  so, 
he  should  best  study  his  own  conve- 
nience and  comfort,  by  setting  out  for 
Richmond,  without  a  moment's  delay. 

«*  My  dear  friend,  don't  talk  of  of- 
fence," said  the  Deputy,  that  which 
affords  you  most  pleasure,  will  always  be 
most  agreeable  to  me.  But  how  are 
vou  to  go?    Here  are  no  horses." 


CALTHOPE.  167 

"  Across  the  country  it  is  no  great 
distance ,  and  I  have  some  idea,  that  I 
can  find  my  way  by  a  cut  so  short,  that 
I  shall  get  there  almost  as  soon  going 
on  foot,  as  I  could  by  the  road  with 
horses." 

"  I  dont  much  like  my  friend  to  go 
on  foot ;  but  if  you  object  to  staying  the 
night,  please  yourself;  only  mind  I  shall 
expect  the  honour  of  your  company  in 
town  as  soon  as  you  liave  seen  your 
relations.  But  I  think  you  had  better 
not  set  out  to  night. 

"It  will  not  be  dark  for  some  hours, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  get  home 
in  very  good  time." 

Henry  prepared  without  delay  to  car- 
ry his  resolution  into  effect,  and  having 
received  the  adieus  of  the  ladies,  and 
the  kind  soHcitations  of  Mrs.  Hanson 
to  be  with  them  again  very  soon,  he 
shook  hands  with  the  Deputy,  and  com- 
menced his  journey. 


168  CALTHORPE. 

As  he  proceeded,  he  could  not  but 
reflect  with  infinite  satisfaction  on  the 
scenes  he  had  recently  witnessed,  and 
on  the  kindness  he  had  experienced 
from  his  new  friends.  But  he  regretted 
not  that  he  was  no  longer  with  them, 
when  he  reflected  that  a  few  hours 
would  restore  him  to  that  beloved  and 
peaceful  dwelling,  where  an  indulgent  fa- 
ther, a  fond  mother,  and  an  affectionate 
sister,  waited  to  hail  his  return,  and  to 
share  from  sympathy  the  delights  which 
he  had  known  in  his  tour.  He  had  never 
been  from  home  for  so  considerable  a 
period  before,  and  looking  forward  to  the 
moment  which  should  restore  him  to  a 
father's  embrace,  he  felt  at  heart  all  the 
force  of  the  judicious  remark,  that  "  It 
is  sometimes  worth  while  to  go  abroad, 
if  it  be  only  for  the  joy  of  returning 
home." 

His  was  the  age  at  which  life  appears 
most  pregnant  with  felicity.  At  that 
period  of  youth,  when  the  vigour  and 
16 


CALTHORPE.  l69 

importance  of  manhood  are  first  felt  and 
appreciated, — when  health  and  strength, 
almost  exclude  the  idea  that  disease 
and  infirmity  are  evils  known  to  mor- 
tals, —  when  mental  anxiety  is  even  more 
remote  from  the  heart  than  bodily 
suffering  from  the  frame:  it  is  then 
that  the  meretricious  charms  of  life  are 
displayed  in  all  their  most  dazzling  splen- 
dour to  the  inexperienced  eye.  Flatter- 
ing hope  attends  the  stripling's  every  step, 
^nd  points  to  numerous  objects,  that 
promise  the  most  exquisite  gratification. 
Fear  and  distrust  are  unknown  5  for  as  the 
cruelty  of  men  has  not  been  felt,  their 
perfidy  is  not  suspected  ;  and  confidence 
and  exultation  carry  the  novice  gaily 
forward  towards  imaginary  scenes  of  ex- 
haustless  delight,  and  unalloyed  felicity. 
The  world  is  known  but  in  idea,  and 
that  idea  bestows  all  that  its  owner 
could  desire  that  life  should  possess, 
labours  its  airy  creation  to  perfection, 
and  finally  gives  to  the  ardent  gaze  of 

VOL.  I.  I 


lyO  CALTHORPE. 

enamoured  fancy,  a  finished  picture  of 
bliss  :  O !  how  mournfully  unlike  the  sad 
realities  of  existence ! 

Gaily  anticipating  the  joyful  greetings 
with  which  he  was  satisfied  that  he  should 
be  received,  and  turning  over  in  his  mind 
the  pleasantries  with  which  he  should  re- 
ply to  them,  he  took  into  consideration 
the  manner  in  which  he  should  make  his 
approach  ;  and  in  order  the  more  to  sur- 
prise those  he  was  hastening  to  join,  he 
determined  to  get  into  the  house  as 
quietly  as  possible,  that  they  might  have 
no  thought  of  his  immediate  return,  till 
the  moment  in  which,  bursting  into  the 
room  where  they  were  assembled,  he 
could  announce  himself. 

While  his  mind  was  thus  engaged,  the 
last  gleam  of  day  vanished  from  his  view. 
It  was  a  beautiful  evening  ;  and  his  mind 
had  not  been  so  completely  absorbed  by 
the  contemplation  of  recollected  joys, 
and  expected  happiness,  but  he  found 
leisure  to  regard  with  interest  the  glories 


CALTHORPE.  I7I 

of  the  setting  sun.  He  gazed  with  a 
lively  admiration  on  the  clouds,  which 
seemed  to  pursue  the  retiring  luminary 
of  heaven  to  catch  his  parting  splen- 
dour;  and  observing  these  as  they 
changed  their  hue,  now  glittering  with  a 
golden  radiance,  then  gradually  assum- 
ing a  crimson  glow,  and  finally  becoming 
sable  masses  on  the  face  of  the  sky  — 
darker  even  than  the  gloom  which  they 
had  attempted  to  irradiate — awe,  wonder, 
and  devotion  filled  his  soul,  while  aspir- 
ing thought  soared  to  the  Divine  Author 
of  ail,  charmed  with  the  majesty  and  ar- 
rangement of  the  scene  which  arrested 
his  attention.  It  did  not  occur  to  him 
that  these  celestial  transitions  but  too 
faithfully  represented  the  bright  hopes, 
the  lowering  prospects,  and  final  gloom 
which  over-hang,  or  rather  constitute, 
the  destiny  of  man. 

Still  cheerfully  advancing,  it  was  not 
till   several  hours  had  elapsed  that  he 
discovered   he   had  w^andered  from  the 
I  2 


17^  CALTHORPE. 

track  which  he  ought  to  have  followed. 
The  enquiries  which  he  addressed  to  the 
few  persons  he  met,  produced  as  usual, 
directions  not  easily  to  be  understood, 
and  totally  at  variance  with  each  other. 
It  was  late  in  the  evening  before  he  ar- 
rived at  Roehampton,  and  it  was  not  till 
then  that  he  found  himself  relieved  from 
all  uncertainty  as  to  the  road  by  which 
he  might  reach  Richmond  with  the  least 
possible  delay. 

The  church  clock  struck  twelve,  a 
few  moments  after  he  had  commenced 
the  last  mile  which  he  had  to  travel. 
Though  not  very  much  fatigued,  he 
exulted  in  the  certainty  that  another 
quarter  of  an  hour  would  bring  him  to 
his  father.  But  a  small  disappointment 
.  grew  out  of  the  delay  to  which  he  had 
been  compelled  to  submit,  through  losing 
his  way.  He  could  no  longer  hope  to 
surprise  his  parents  and  sister  in  the 
manner  that  he  had  intended,  by  passing 
silently  into  the   house.     It  would  be 


CALTHORPE.  173 

necessary  to  give  them  some  disturbance, 
as  it  was  the  practice  of  Mr.  Burleigh 
and  of  his  family  to  retire  to  rest  before 
midnight.  He,  however,  felt  but  little 
regret  on  this  score,  as  he  was  confident 
that  the  satisfaction  inspired  by  his  re- 
turn would  greatly  outweigh,  in  their 
estimation,  the  trifling  inconvenience 
they  would  sustain  from  being  awakened 
at  an  unusual  hour. 

These  thoughts  were  passing  in  his 
mind  when  he  found  it  necessary  to  stop, 
on  coming  to  four  cross-roads  ;  not  that 
he  was  in  doubt  which  would  lead  to 
Richmond,  but  because  such  a  number 
of  persons  were  there  assembled  as  made 
it  difficult  for  him  to  proceed.  They 
were  all  apparently  of  the  lowest  classes, 
and  wore  their  working  dresses.  The 
unusual  silence  that  prevailed  spoke  the 
occasion  of  their  meeting  to  be  no  holi- 
day revel,  and  he  sought  in  vain  to  dis- 
cover the  business  that  had  called  them 
together.  Among  the  crowd  he  could 
I  3 


174  CALTHORPE. 

distinguish  no  one  that  he  knew,  but  be 
himself  was  presently  recognised  ;  a  ge- 
neral murmur  of  "  Here  is  young  Bur- 
leigh !"  ran  through  the  group ;  and  one 
person  of  decent  appearance,  addressed 
him  rather  unceremoniously,  with, 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Burleigh,  you  ought 
not  to  be  here  at  this  hour ;  and  advise 
you  to  retire/' 

Surprised  at  this  rudeness,  Henry  con- 
sidered himself  to  be  treated  like  a  child, 
by  the  remark  on  his  being  from  home 
so  late.  The  latter  part  of  this  brief 
speech  appeared  to  him  to  contain  a 
threat,  and  he  contemptuously  retorted. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  I  should  ask 
you  where  I  am  to  go,  or  when.  For 
your  advice,  you  would  do  well  to  keep 
it  till  it  is  called  for,  and  then  you  may 
be  thanked  for  it,  though  it  should  be 
worth  nothing." 

The  man  who  had  accosted  him  said 
no  more,  but  turned  away,   abashed,  as 


CALTHORPE.  17*^ 

Henry  thought,  at  the  sarcasm  which  had 
been  the  reward  of  his  impertinence. 

And  now  a  general  motion  in  the 
crowd,  seemed  to  indicate  that  an  object 
of  unusual  interest  was  about  to  present 
itself.  Though  for  such  a  time  and  such 
a  place,  the  number  of  persons  assembled 
was  considerable,  the  multitude  was  not 
so  dense  as  to  oppose  much  resistance  to 
Henry's  strenuous  efforts,  to  approach 
that  which  commanded  universal  atten- 
tion.  He  soon  made  his  way  through, 
and  found  himself  on  the  verge  of  a 
newly  dug  pit,  which  had  somewhat  the 
aspect  of  a  grave.  He  had  scarcely  been 
able  to  obtain  a  view  of  it,  and  had  not 
had  time  to  ask  a  single  question  of  the 
by-standers,  when,  borne  on  a  board,  he 
perceived  a  dead  body  brought  forward 
to  the  spot.  The  ipoon  at  that  moment 
partially  emerged  from  a  cloud  of  sepul- 
chral darkness  by  which  it  had  been  long 
obscured,  as  if  to  assist  those  engaged  in 
completing  the  terrific  business  of  the 
I  4 


176  CALTHORPE. 

night,  and  to  display,  for  the  last  time, 
the  blood-besmeared  bosom  and  ghastly 
visage  of  the  corpse,  which  was  now  pre- 
cipitated into  the  hole.  The  fatal  stake, 
which  the  law  required  should  be  passed 
through  the  body,  was  next  produced. 
Henry  saw  it ;  and,  starting  from  the 
momentary  stupor  of  horror  into  which 
he  had  been  thrown,  burst  through  the 
surrounding  throng,  shuddering  at  hav- 
ing witnessed  so  much  of  the  funeral  of 
a  self-murderer. 

The  dismal  scene,  of  which  he  had 
been  a  witness,  made  a  great  impression 
on  his  mind.  "  Perhaps,"  thought  he, 
"  the  wretch  has  been  urged  to  this 
dreadful  act  by  calamity.  Unable  to 
endure  severe  privation  with  fortitude, 
and  frantic  at  seeing  his  wife  and  help- 
less children  plunged  by  his  folly  or 
misfortunes,  into  hopeless  misery,  he  has 
fled  from  the  sorrows  of  life  by  suicide  ; 
or,  possibly,  conscious  guilt  has  driven 
him  thus  madly  to  brave  the  vengeance 


CALTHORPE'  177 

of  the  Most  High,  in  order  to  evade  the 
transient  punishment  which  might  have 
been  inflicted  by  his  fellow-men.  But 
w4iy  thus  suppose  the  worst  ?  It  may  be, 
(though  the  jury  have  not  thought  so,) 
that  he  was  suddenly  bereft  of  reason, 
and  that  the  act  was  that  of  his  malady, 
and  not  of  his  depravity.  O!  had  he 
but  heard  the  reasoning  which  my 
honoured  father  has  sometimes  opposed 
to  the  apologists  of  suicide,  it  might 
have  tranquillised  the  first  throbs  of 
anguish,  and  subdued  that  desperation 
which  has  terminated  in  this  frightful 
catastrophe.'* 

And  while  these  thoughts  passed 
through  his  mind,  his  attention  was,  for 
a  time,  diverted  from  the  happiness  to 
which  he  had  reason  to  expect  that  a 
very  few  steps  would  now  conduct  him. 
Ruminating  on  the  awful  spectacle  which 
had  been  thrown  in  his  way,  he  with 
eager  interest  recalled  the  various  con- 
i  5 


17S^  CALTHORPE. 

versations  which  he  had  heard  on  thk 
subject,  and  the  words  which  his  friend 
and  father  had  used,  when  incidentally 
speaking  of  self-murder.  *«  Whether," 
Mr.  Burleigh  had  said,  *«  life  be  con- 
ceded to  us  as  a  boon,  or  inflicted  as  a 
punishment  on  our  refractory  spirits,  of 
this  at  least  we  may  be  certain,  that  it 
was  not  bestowed  without  an  object,  and 
be  that  object  what  it  may,  it  is  our 
duty  to  preserve  existence,  in  order  that, 
so  far  as  depends  upon  us,  the  will  of  Him 
who  made  us  may  be  accomplished.'' 
These  sentiments  had  been  expressed  on 
th^  evening  when  it  was  determined  that 
Henry  should  visit  the  Hansons.  Young 
minds  are  fond  of  marking  coincidences, 
and  it  appeared  singular  to  Henry,'  that 
his  father's  ideas  should  take  such  a 
turn  on  the  day  which  sent  him  from 
Eichmond,  and  that  they  should  be  so 
awfully  recalled  on  that  of  his  return. 
But  he  now  found  himself  at  his  journey's 


CALTHORPE.  179 

end.  **  It  is  my  father's  house !''  he 
exclaimed  ;  "  away  with  the  solemn 
thoughts  which  have  lately  haunted  my 
mind,  and  let  me  prepare  to  witnefw? 
happiness." 


I  6 


180  CALTHORPE. 


CHAP.  X, 


"  Fond  man  that  looks  on  earth  for  happiness, 
And  here  long  seeks  what  here  is  never  found  ! 

For  ail  our  good  we  hold  from  Heaven  by  lease. 
With  many  forfeits  and  conditions  bound." 

Phineas  Fletchir. 


He  approached  the  house,  and  an- 
nounced his  return,  by  knocking  as  he 
had  been  accustomed  to  do.  The  knock, 
he  expected,  would  be  recognised ;  but  as 
he  was  confident  that  all  the  family  had 
retired  to  rest,  he  calculated  on  some 
delay  before  the  door  could  be  opened. 
Some  minutes  elapsed,  yet  no  footstep 
was  heard,  and  he  was  led  to  conclude, 
that,  buried  in  profound  repose,  the 
sounds  he  had  produced  had  been  lost 
on  those  for  whom  they  were  intended. 
He  gave  a  louder  knock  than  before,  but 
4 


CALTHORPE.  181 

with  no  better  success.  A  quarter  of 
an  hour  was  thus  consumed  j  and  now 
irritated  by  the  amazing  drowsiness  of 
the  servants,  or  by  their  bickerings  with 
each  other,  which  he  supposed  to  ope- 
rate his  exclusion,  he  made  an  appeal  to 
the  hearing  of  the  inmates,  for  which 
he  felt,  that  it  would  be  necessary  to 
apologise  to  his  father,  but  which  he 
flattered  himself,  would  raise  one  of  his 
domestics  from  the  death-like  sleep,  into 
which  it  seemed  that  all  had  fallen. 

Nor  was  the  hope  vain.  Retiring  a 
little  from  the  door,  he  perceived  a  light 
in  the  upper  part  of  the  house,  which  he 
had  not  before  observed,  and  a  moment 
after  he  was  satisfied  that  it  moved.  It 
was  clear  that  it  was  descending,  from 
the  ray  which  burst  through  the  upper 
staircase  window,  and  then  through  the 
chamber  and  drawing-room  windows  in 
succession,  the  doors  of  which  he  con- 
ceived must  have  been  left  open  to 
fa\^our  this  illumination.  He  had  watched 


182  CALTHORPE. 

its   leisurely  progress   with   impatience, 
and  now,    glad    that  it  had  at  length 
reached    the    passage,    he   prepared  to 
reprove  the  bearer  for  the  tardiness  of 
his  movements. 

"  Come,  come,'*  said  he,  in  answer  to 
the  question  *  Who's  there  ?'  "  open  the 
door,  unless  you  mean  to  keep  me  here 
all  night." 

"  Who's  there  ?"  the  voice  within, 
again  inquired. 

"  'Tis  I  —  your  young  master.  — 
Surely  you  have  not  forgotten  my  knock. 
Be  quick  I  say.  —  Open  the  door  di- 
rectly.'* 

"  Who's  there  ?"  was  again  demanded 
with  an  air  of  cautious  tranquillity,  that 
was  provokingly  at  variance  with  the  im- 
petuosity to  which  it  responded. 

"  Open  the  door  and  see.  What  do 
you  mean  by  this  delay  ?  I  want  to  come 
in." 

"  Nobody  must  be  admitted  but  on 
business." 


CALTHORPE.  185 

Henry  now  remarked,  that  the  voice 
was  not  that  of  the  old  porter  James,  nor 
of  any  of  the  servants  that  he  had  left  in 
the  house  when  he  went  to  Mr.  Hanson's. 
Reflecting  that  caution  in  a  new  servant 
ought  to  be  admitted  as  some  excuse  for 
awkwardness,  he  moderated  his  tone,  and 
spoke  with  his  usual  mildness. 

**  But,  my  good  fellow,  I  come  on  bu- 
siness, I  want  to  see  your  master." 

"  Mr.  Wilkinson  won't  be  here  before 
ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning." 

"  What's  Mr. Wilkinson  to  me?  You 
hardly  know  what  you  are  saying.  I  am 
afraid  you  have  been  drinking.  Let  me 
in." 

The  person  within,  had  by  this  time 
ventured  to  open  the  door  a  little  way, 
having  first  secured  it,  by  putting  up  the 
chain  to  guard  against  any  sudden  at- 
tempt to  invade  the  premises,  and  now, 
as  he  looked  out,  Henry  impatiently 
demanded  of  him, 

"  Will  you  let  me  in  ?" 


184  cAlthorpe. 

"  No." 

**  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  Do  you 
not  know  me  ?  I  am  your  master's  son." 

*«  Who?" 

"  Henry  Burleigh." 

«  No  !  —  What !  is  it  Henry  Burleigh  ! 
Oh !  that  alters  the  case.  Though  my 
orders  is  to  let  nobody  in,  I  won't  keep 
you  out  of  your  father's  house.  —  Now, 
Sir,  walk  in." 

With  these  words  the  chain  was  re- 
moved, and  Henry  found  himself  in  the 
hall.  There  was  an  appearance  of  dis- 
order about  it,  to  which  his  eye  had  not 
been  accustomed.  This  however,  was  of 
little  importance  to  him.  He  rejoiced  to 
find  himself  once  more  in  the  house  of  his 
father,  and  passing  the  porter  hastily,  he 
began  to  ascend  the  stairs,  intending  to 
announce  his  return,  and  inquire  after  the 
health  of  his  parents,  before  he  took  re- 
freshment or  repose.  He  had  taken  but 
a  few  steps,  when  he  heard  the  man  in 
the  hall  calling  to  him. 


CALTHORPE.  185 

"  Where  are  you  going?  —  What  do 
you  want  up  stairs  ?  There's  nobody 
there." 

"  Nobody  there  !"  he  exclaimed,  re- 
peating, with  unspeakable  surprise,  the 
words  which  had  arrested  him  in  his 
course. 

"  No,  Sir ;  there  's  not  a  soul  in  the 
house  but  myself —  but  our  two  selves, 
however." 

"  Indeed  !  —  why  that  is  strange.  What 
is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?" 

*'  I  suppose  you  know  pretty  well  the 
meaning,  Sir,  if  you  take  time  to  recol- 
lect—" 

*'  To  recollect  what  ?'* 

"  Why,  Sir,  you  know  Mr.  Wilkinson, 
who  hired  me  to  come  here  to  take  care 
of  the  house  for  a  few  days." 

"  For  what  purpose? — who  is  Mr. 
W^ilkinson  ?  —  what  has  he  to  do  with  this 
house  ?" 

**  I  should  think  you  must  know  that 


186  CALTHORPE. 

without  asking.  Sir.     As  soon  as  poor  Mr. 
Burleigh  was  dead — " 

"  Dead !"  exclaimed  Henry,  with  wild 
emotion.  "  My  father  dead !  —  And  I 
not  informed  of  it.  Impossible  !  —  It  can- 
not be.'* 

And  as  it  appeared  quite  certain,  if 
there  had  been  the  least  prospect  of  an 
event  so  melancholy  taking  place,  that  he 
would  have  been  informed  of  it,  and  sum- 
moned to  town  ;  he  endeavoured  to  reco- 
ver his  composure,  and  to  persuade  him- 
self that  there  must  be  some  mistake.  The 
silence  of  the  man,  who  was  tongue-bound 
from  the  surprise  of  which  he  perceived 
that  he  was  the  cause^  confirmed  the  youth 
in  the  hope  that  he  had  sustained  an  un- 
necessary alarm,  and  he  proceeded  to 
make  further  inquiries. 

"  I  perceive  I  have  misunderstood  you, 
friend.     Who  did  you  say  was  dead  ?*' 

"  Mr.  Burleigh,  the  great  counsellor. 
I  thought  you  knew  all  about  it.     Yes, 


CALTHORPE.  18? 

poor  man,  he  made  away  with  hhnself 
last  Sunday." 

Henry  staggered  some  paces  back- 
ward, but  repHed  not  to  the  dreadful 
tidmgs,  thus  abruptly  poured  into  his 
wondering  ears.  His  lips  remained  un- 
closed, as  if  speaking  j  but  articulation 
was  gone,  and  short  breathings,  occa- 
sionally interrupted  by  a  lengthened  gasp, 
and  eyes  glaring  with  agony  and  amaze- 
ment, indicated  the  horror  which  un- 
manned him. 

The  man  who  had  communicated  these 
afflicting  tidings,  was  affected  by  Henry's 
distress,  and  alarmed  at  the  ghastly  hue 
which  invaded  his  blood-forsaken  cheek. 
He  advanced  to  him,  and  attempted  to 
conduct  him  to  a  seat ;  but  Henry,  de- 
clining his  assistance,  continued  leaning 
against  the  wall.  Thus  suddenly  bereft 
of  one  so  truly  dear  to  him,  and  by  his 
own  act,  as  he  collected,  and  at  the  very 
moment,  (as  it  seemed,)  when  he  expect- 
ed to  find  himself  clasped  in  his  embrace, 


188  CALTHORPE. 

was  too  much  for  human  endurance.  His 
mind  became  a  frightful  chaos,  and, 
dashed  as  it  were  "  from  wave  to  wave," 
not  of  "  fancied,"  but  of  real  "  misery," 
he  could  bestow  no  expression  on  what 
he  had  heard  ;  he  could  make  no  enqui- 
ries. Benumbed,  or  petrified  by  the 
shock,  a  sort  of  lethargy  seemed  to  come 
over  him  ;  big  drops  of  perspiration  stood 
collected  on  his  pallid  brow,  and  he  re- 
mained motionless  and  silent. 

Suddenly  an  idea  crossed  his  mind  ;  he 
started  from  the  supporting  wall  and 
attempted  to  speak,  but  shuddering 
horror  defeated  the  effort.  He  remem- 
bered the  awful  scene  which  he  had 
witnessed  on  his  road,  and  thought  he 
perceived  a  dreadful'  connection  between 
that,  and  what  he  had  just  heard.  It 
was  on  this  subject  that  he  wished  to  ask 
a  question.  After  many  fruitless  endea- 
vours he  at  l^st  sobbed, 

"  His  remains.  —  My  father's  remains. 


CALTHORPE.  189 

are  they  unburied  ?  Are  they  in  this 
house  ?** 

The  man  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  here  1  —  Speak,  tell  me ;  has  the 
grave  closed  over  them  ?" 

The  person  to  whom  he  addressed  him- 
self seemed  embarrassed.  He  paused; 
but  perceiving  that  Henry  expected  his 
answer,  he  at  length  replied, 

«  I  don't  know." 

"  When  is  the  funeral  to  take  place  ?" 
enquired  Henry,  shrinking  from  the 
question  he  was  disposed  to  put. 

"  By  this  time  it  may  be  over.  He 
was  to  be  buried  at  midnight  in  the  — " 

"  At  midnight, — in  the  cross  roads  1'* 
cried  Henry,  with  frantic  anticipation, 
which  required  no  support  from  a  con- 
firmatory reply.  All  doubt  was  now 
changed  into  the  most  excruciating  cer- 
tainty. Strange  and  incredible  as  it  had 
seemed,  it  w^as  but  too  clear  that  Mr. 
Burleigh  had  destroyed  himself,  and  that 


190  CALTHORPE. 

Henry,  in  witnessing  the  funeral  of  a 
suicide,  had  assisted  at  the  brief  obse- 
quies of  his  father. 

To  describe  the  agitation  of  the  youth, 
who  an  hour  before  had  believed  himself 
hastening  to  receive  the  warm  greetings 
of  an  indulgent  parent,  when  he  found 
that  it  was  the  blood-disfigured  body 
of  that  parent,  that  he  had  seen  ignomi- 
niously  deposited  in  a  pit,  with  as  little 
cerem-ony  as  would  have  been  bestowed 
on  the  interment  of  a  dog,  —  would  be  a 
task  not  less  difficult  than  vain.  He  re- 
mained riveted  to  the  spot,  and  with 
burning  anguish,  recalling  what  he  had 
seen  and  heard,  it  was  long  before  he 
seemed  other  than  a  living  statue.  The 
man  left  in  charge  of  the  house,  finding 
himself  thus  detained,  lighted  his  pipe, 
and  attempted  to  interest  Henry  with  the 
most  copious  details  of  what  had  passed. 
These  were,  for  the  most  part,  lost  on  the 
young  man.  His  mind  was  so  occupied 
by  that  which  he  already  knew",   that 


CALTHORPE.  191 

he  could  listen  to  no  more ;  but  when  at 
last  the  speaker  touched  on  the  situation 
of  his  mother  and  sister,  he  awoke  to  the 
recollection  of  the  duties  which,  under 
so  terrible  a  calamity,  devolved  on  the 
son  and  the  brother ;  and  he  broke  si- 
lence to  request  that  the  man  would  re- 
peat part  of  his  statement  concerning 
them,  which  he  had  but  imperfectly 
heard.  This  wish  was  complied  with  in 
the  following  terms. 

♦'  Why  Sir,  from  what  I  can  hear,  it 
appears,  that  a  man  must  not  kill  himself, 
according  to  law,  any  more  than  any 
body  else.  Now,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Burleigh, 
notwithstanding  he  was  a  great  lawyer, 
did  not  know  this.  So,  Sir,  when  it  was 
all  over,  and  the  jury  had  given  their 
verdict  against  him  as  a  felo7i  —  I  forget 
the  rest — and  ordered  him  to  be  buried  in 
the  cross-roads ;  it  then,  Sir,  turned  out, 
as  I  understand,  that  all  his  property  was 
not  his,  and  since  he  had  taken  a  subject 
from  the  king,  the  king  had  a  right  to 


19^  CALTHORPE. 

take  all  his  goods  from  his  family,  and  all 
his  money,  and  cetera,  and  cetera." 

"  But  my  mother  —  my  mother  !" 

"  Well,  Sir,  this  was,  of  course,  a  sad 
blow  for  her,  because  they  took  the  house 
and  all  away  from  her.  At  least,  they 
did  not  take  it,  but  she  was  told,  that  it 
did  not  belong  to  her,  nor  any  body 
belonging  to  her,  and  so  she  thought  it 
better  to  turn  out." 

*'  And  where  is  she  now  ?" 

**  I  have  not  been  myself  to  see  j  but 
it  seems  there  is  a  little  cottage  near  this, 
which,  by  some  settlement,  or  thing  of 
that  sort,  which  great  people  make  when 
they  are  going  to  marry,  is  secured  to  her 
in  her  own  right,  and  so  she  is  gone  there, 
and  left  t]iis  house  for  Mr.  Wilkinson  to 
take  possession." 

"  I  will  go  to  her  —  I  know  the  cot- 
tage." 

"  It  is  near  the  green,  I  think.  But, 
Master  Henry,  you  had  better  not  go  to 
Jcnock  up  the  ladies  to  night.  Poor  things! 


CALTHORPE,  193 

I  heard  say  they've  had  no  sleep  for 
two  or  three  nights.  It  is  a  pity  to  dis- 
turb them  now.  You  may  sleep  here  in 
one  of  the  beds  if  you  Kke.  Mr.  Wilkin- 
son won't  think  it  taking  any  liberty.'* 

"  I  do  not  want  sleep." 

"  But  it  will  be  a  pity  to  wake  your 
mother  and  Miss,  between  one  and  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"  You  are  very  considerate  ;  but  on 
the  night  which  has  seen  the  earth  close 
over  my  dear  unhappy  father,  I  am  sure 
there  will  be  no  danger  of  disturbing 
their  repose." 

With  these  words  he  advanced  to  the 
door.  The  man  did  the  same,  but,  re- 
luctant to  open  it,  again  entreated  Henry 
to  postpone  his  visit  till  the  morning. 
His  representations  were  useless,  and,  'at 
Henry's  request,  the  bolts  were  once 
more  undrawn,  and  he  walked  forth  with 
an  air  of  such  misery  and  distraction, 
that  the  man  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to 
admonish  the  young  gentleman  not  to 

VOL.  I.  K 


194  CALTHORPE. 

give  way  to  grief,  lest  it  should  lead  him 
to  do  as  his  father  had  done. 

With  slow  and  solemn  step,  Henry  ap- 
proached the  humble  roof,  beneath  which 
his  mother  and  sister  had  retired  to  shed 
their  tears.  It  was  now  two  o'clock  ;  but 
he  saw  a  light  in  the  chamber,  and  a 
female  figure  passing  once  or  twice,  assu- 
red him  of  that  which  he  had  not  doubted 
before,  that  his  arrival  would  not  en- 
danger his  mother's  rest.  He  trembled 
as  he  lifted  the  knocker,  and  twice  re- 
stored it  to  its  place  in  silence,  to  gain  a 
momentary  respite  from  the  afflicting 
interview  on  which  his  thoughts  were 
fixed.  A  third  time  he  raised  it;  and 
again  feeling  that  he  was  not  sufficiently 
collected  to  appear  before  the  mourners, 
he  attempted  to  do  as  he  had  previously 
done,  when  he  accidentally  released  it 
sooner  than  he  had  intended,  and  the 
knock  was  given.  It  was  answered  with- 
out delay.  The  door  was  opened,  and  a 
female  servant,  who  had  been  some  years 
17 


CALTHORPE.  195 

in  the  family,  presented  herself.  She 
started  at  perceiving  him,  and  exclaimed 
in  a  tone  of  mournful  expostulation, 

"  O  1  Sir,  are  you  come  at  last!*' 

He  could  reply  to  her  address,  but 
with  tears,  which  continuing  to  flow, 
repeatedly  interrupted  the  short  sentence 
he  attempted  to  utter,  when  an  effort  at 
speech  had  become  practicable.  — 

"  How  is  my  mother  ?" 

"  She  is  quiet  now." 

"  Does  she  sleep  ?'* 

*^  O  no,  she  is  sitting  up.  She  has 
repeatedly  called  for  you,  and  wondered 
much,  in  her  calmer  moments,  that  you 
paid  no  attention  to  the  letter." 

«  What  letter?" 

"  A  letter  sent  to  Brighton,  the  day 
after  —  after  —  but  I  suppose  ybu  know 
what  has  taken  place  in  the  family." 

"  I  do.  —  But  no  letter  informed  me 
of  it." 

"  One  was  sent,  directed  to  Mr.  Han- 
K  2 


196  CALTHORPE. 

son's,  at  Brighton.  I  put  it  in  the  post 
myself/* 

"  Strange  —  unhappy  accident !"  he 
exclaimed,  and  felt  wholly  at  a  loss  to 
account  for  the  miscarriage  of  the  letter. 
He  forgot  that  the  circuitous  route,  and 
leisurely  manner,  in  which  the  Hansons 
had  returned,  made  it  impossible  for  him 
to  receive  a  letter  through  the  post. 

A  deep  groan  arrested  his  attention. 
It  was  from  his  mother,  and  immediately 
afterwards  he  heard  her  voice  loudly 
lamenting  that  her  husband  and  son  were 
both  torn  from  her  by  assassins.  She 
then  called  on  them,  alternately,  to  ex- 
tricate themselves  from  the  murderous 
band  that  surrounded  them,  and  fly  to 
her  relief.  Henry  obeyed  the  summons, 
and  presented  himself  before  her. 

Notwithstanding  her  delirium,  she  re- 
cognised the  face  of  one  she  loved,  and 
though  she  bestowed  the  names  of  hus- 
band and  son  indifferently  upon  him,  in 
either  character  his  presence  afforded 
15 


CALTHORFE.  197 

her  some  relief.  One  female  friend  was 
with  her ;  and  Harriet  herself,  exhausted 
by  the  terrific  emotions  which  had  re- 
cently agitated  her  bosom,  strove,  be- 
tween her  sobs,  to  utter  words  of  comfort, 
and  to  retain  the  woe-worn  mourner  on 
the  couch  which  sustained  her  own  tot- 
tering limbs. 

Henry  received  the  embraces  of  his 
mother  and  sister  5  embraces  not  less 
fervent  (but,  O,  how  different!)  than 
those  he  had  expected  to  receive  on 
his  return.  His  voice  tranquillised  the 
wandering  thoughts  of  his  remaining 
parent,  and  she  became  sufficiently  con- 
scious of  her  real  state,  to  weep  with  her 
children  for  the  irreparable  loss  which 
they  had  to  deplore.  By  the  return  of  day 
her  delirium  was  gone  ;  but  her  dejection 
was  extreme,  and  for  many  hours  she  con- 
tinued, alternately,  to  embrace  and  to 
shed  her  burning  tears  over  all  that  re- 
mained to  her  in  this  world  on  which 
her  affections  could  rest, — her  children, 
K  3 


198  C At THORPE. 

But,  even  in  this  whirlwind  of  calamity, 
in  which  reason,  overwhehned  by  misery, 
was  least  capable  of  exertion,  the  amaze- 
ment of  Henry  would  sometimes  burst 
forth  in  expressions  of  incredulity  on  the 
subject  of  his  father's  melancholy  end. 
That  a  man  of  his  strength  of  mind 
should  so  far  forget  those  principles, 
which  many  years  of  sedate  reflection 
had  so  interwoven  with  his  habits  that 
they  seemed  an  essential  part  of  himself, 
as  to  commit  an  act  which  he  had  ever 
held  in  abhorrence,  was  more  than  he 
could  comprehend.  This,  repeatedly 
uttered,  drew  from  Mrs.  Burleigh,  in 
one  of  her  most  collected  moments,  the 
remark  that,  whatever  the  cause,  it  must 
have  originated  in  the  same  minute  that 
witnessed  the  perpetration  of  the  fatal 
deed.  It  must  have  been  some  sudden 
transport  —  some  indescribable  feeling, 
which,  at  once,  overthrew  the  whole 
fabric  of  a  clear,  strong,  and  virtuous 
mind,  and  hurried  its  revered  possessor 
to  death. 


CALTHORPE, 


19% 


CHAP.  XI. 

*'  Whose  was  that  screech-owl's  voice  that,  like  the  sound 
Of  a  hell-tortur'd  soul,  rung  through  mine  ears 
Nothing  but  horrid  shrieks,  nothing  but  death  ?" 

Marlowe. 

It  may  be  for  the  convenience  of  the 
reader  that  we  should,  for  a  while,  leave 
the  mourners,  to  give  some  account  of 
Mr,  Burleigh's  death,  and  of  the  proceed- 
ings which  immediately  followed  that 
event,  and  which  produced  the  melan- 
choly scene  of  which  Henry  was,  acci- 
dentally, the  spectator. 

On  that  morning,  which  was  the  last 
he  was  destined  to  see,  Mr.  Burleigh  rose 
at  his  usual  hour,  and  joined  his  family 
as  soon  as  they  were  stirring.  His  lady 
had  been  so  severely  indisposed,  that  it 
was  necessary  a  female  attendant  should 
be  with  her  the  whole  of  the  night ;  and, 
K  4 


^00  CALTHORPE. 

on  this  account,  a  bed  had  been  pro- 
vided for  him  in  a  small  apartment  on 
the  first  floor,  which  parted  his  study 
from  the  drawing-room.  He  asked,  on 
descending  from  it,  with  his  wonted 
tenderness,  after  Mrs.  Burleigh's  health, 
and  was  gratified  to  find  that  she  was  in 
an  improving  state.  This  circumstance 
affording  him  pleasure,  his  spirits  seemed 
even  better  than  usual,  though  dejection 
was  one  of  those  evils  of  which  he  had 
little  reason  to  complain. 

The  family  had  just  risen  from  break- 
fast, when  Sir  James  Denville  was  an- 
nounced. He  made  the  usual  friendly 
enquiries  after  the  health  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Burleigh  ;  but  playfully  remarked 
that  it  would  be  almost  hypocrisy  to  go 
through  the  same  form  with  Harriet. 
He  did  not  know  but  he  should  be  jus- 
tified in  wishing  her  to  experience  a 
little  indisposition,  (provided  it  were  un- 
connected with  danger,)  that  she  might 
have  more  pity  for  those  who  laboured 


CALTHORPE.  SOI 

under  indisposition  of  the  mind,  and 
learn  from  her  own  sufferings  "  to  feel 
for  others'  woe."  He  congratulated  Mr. 
Burleigh  on  the  returning  health  of  his 
lady,  and  expressed  an  opinion  that  an 
excursion  to  the  coast  would  be  likely  to 
do  her  good 5  and  while  on  this  subject,  he 
lamented  that  he  had  not  before  invited 
his  friend  with  his  family,  to  join  him  in 
a  little  tour  he  was  about  to  make,  and 
on  account  of  which,  he  was  that  morn- 
ing to  leave  Richmond. 

Mr.  Burleigh  returned  his  thanks  for 
these  civilities,  and  enquired  of  Sir  James 
where  he  thought  of  going. 

"  I  am  going."  said  he,  "  merely  a 
little  run  along  the  sea-shore.  We  get 
to  Dover  to  day,  I,  and  an  eccentric 
friend  of  mine  ;  and  then  pass  leisurely  on 
by  Beechy  Head,  round  by  Brighton  ; — 
by-the-bye,  when  I  arrive  there,  I  shall 
look  out  for  Henry,  and  have  a  day  with 
him  ;  and  then  continuing  our  route,  we 
visit  all  the  little  pleasant  places  in  that 

K  ^ 


^02  CALTttORPE. 

neighbourhood,  and  proceed  to  Ports- 
mouth/' 

<«  I  wish  you  much  pleasure,  Sir 
James." 

"  Thank  you.  Sir. — I  wish  Miss  Bur- 
leigh had  the  benevolence  to  say  the 
same." 

"  I  wish  you  much  pleasure,  Sir 
James,"  said  Harriet,  with  unaffected 
calmness  and  good  will. 

"  Aye,  you  wish  me  pleasure,  as  you 
would  wish  a  man^  whom  you  had  never 
seen,  the  good  fortune  to  avoid  breaking 
his  neck." 

"  I  do  wish  it,  as  I  should  wish  any 
individual  to  escape  such  a  calamity; 
that  is,  sincerely." 

"  But  not  anxiously." 

"I  seldom  feel  anxious,  but  when  I 
feel  apprehension.  At  present  I  have 
no  fear  on  the  subject  j  for  I  can  have  no 
doubt  that  you  will  experience  much 
pleasure." 


CALTHORPE.  203 

"  But  the  pangs  of  absence  —  of  ab- 
sence from  you/' 

"  O !  excuse  me,  Sir  James  j  if  you  are 
going  to  amuse  me  with  flights  of  this 
description,  it  is  time  to  show  you,  that 
my  romance  reading  has  not  quite  pre- 
pared me  for  any  thing  so  very  tender/' 

And  with  these  words,  which  she  ac- 
companied with  a  low  curtsey,  she  left 
the  room. 

Sir  James  looked  after  her,  and  for  an 
instant  was  silent,  and  appeared  sinking 
into  a  profound  reverie ;  when  he  was 
interrupted  by  Mr.  Burleigh,  who  en- 
quired why  he  was  on  a  sudden  so 
thoughtful. 

"  Can  you  ask,  my  dear  friend,''  he 
replied,  <*  when  you  behold  how  I  am 
mocked  and  shunned  by  the  lovely  being 
I  adore  ?  Have  you  so  little  recollection 
of  the  more  stormy  period  of  your  life, 
as  to  witness  this,  and  yet  wonder  that  it 
should  affect  me  ?" 

K  6 


204"  CALTHORPE. 

"  Nay,  I  see  nothing  but  good-hu- 
moured  playfulness,  in  the  manner  of 
Harriet's  leaving  you." 

"  But  she  does  leave  me.  Had  she 
expressed  detestation  of  me,  and  remain- 
ed, I  should  have  been  comparatively 
happy." 

"  She  is  very  young,  and  as  yet  can 
hardly  be  expected  to  know  her  own 
mind.     It  may  not  always  be  thus." 

"  It  shall  not  always  be  thus,"  Sir 
James  retorted  with  energy,  which,  in  the 
view  of  Mr.  Burleigh,  embodied  quite 
as  much  resentment  as  affection.  The 
Baronet  seemed  conscious  of  this,  and 
added, — *'  But  forgive  my  warmth.  You 
have  known  me  from  infancy,  and  know 
me  a  fretful  impatient  wretch ;  but, 
where  so  mighty  a  stake  as  your  daugh- 
ter is  to  be  won,  I  think  you  cannot 
blame  me  for  ardour  in  the  cause.  She 
may  retire  ;  but  I  will  pursue,  and  never, 
never,  can  I  relinquish  the  hope  of  pos- 


CALTHORPE.  S05 

sessing  her  hand,  and  of  being  ennobled 
with  the  title  of  your  son-in-law." 

Mr.  Burleigh  courteously  replied, 
thanked  Sir  James  for  the  complimentary 
expressions  he  had  used,  and  remarking 
that  time  had  accomplished  things  much 
more  wonderful,  attempted  to  change 
the  conversation.  But  Sir  James  had 
no  leisure.  Having  received  the  good 
wishes  of  his  friends,  bade  adieu  to 
Harriet,  as  she  passed  before  the  window 
in  the  garden,  he  prepared  for  his  de- 
departure.  His  servant  was  near,  and 
now,  by  his  direction,  brought  his  horse 
to  the  door.  He  mounted,  and  waving 
his  hand,  was  out  of  sight  in  a  few 
moments. 

The  evening  was  fine,  and  Mrs.  Bur- 
leigh was  prevailed  upon  to  walk.  It 
was  the  first  time  that  she  had  ventured 
out,  since  the  attempt  to  carry  off  Har- 
riet. Mr.  Burleigh  pointed  out  the  spot 
from  which  she  had  been  snatched  by 


W6  CALTHORPE. 

ruffians,  and  that  on  which  he  had  had 
the  happiness  of  receiving  her  from  the 
hands  of  the  generous  stranger  who  had 
rescued  her.  They  recalled  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  that  memorable  night;  and 
shuddering  at  the  danger,  they  rejoiced 
in  the  merciful  interposition  which  had 
so  unexpectedly  defeated  the  outrage. 

But  who  the  ruffians  were,  and  who 
the  deliverer  of  Harriet,  were  circum- 
stances over  which  the  darkest  veil  of 
mystery  was  thrown.  The  most  active 
exertions  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Burleigh, 
had  failed  to  discover  any  clue  by  which 
the  guilty  might  be  brought  to  justice, 
and  to  an  advertisement  addressed  to 
A.  B.,  an  answer  had  been  returned, 
only  to  state  that  *<  when  Mr.  Burleigh 
could  announce  that  his  evidence  was 
wanted  against  the  ruffians  who  had 
seized  Harriet,  the  writer  would  not  fail 
to  be  forthcoming." 

Returned  from  their  walk,  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh spoke  to  Harriet  on  the  pretensions 


CALTHORPE.  207 

of  Sir  James,  and  desired  to  know  if 
she  remained  true  to  the  resolution  she 
had  before  announced.  Her  answer  was, 
that  she  had  seen  nothing  to  induce  her 
to  change  it  5  and  whatever  his  personal 
advantages  might  be,  and  however  bril- 
liant his  future  prospects,  she  hoped  her 
father  would  never  lay  his  commands 
upon  her  to  think  of  him  but  as  a  friend 
or  an  acquaintance. 

"  I  certainly  never  will,"  he  replied. 
'<  I  will  give  a  child  of  mine  no  excuse 
for  deceiving  me,  by  requiring  the  sacri- 
fice of  her  own  feelings  to  forward  my 
views.  In  choosing  a  companion  for  life, 
it  is  but  reasonable  that  the  parties  most 
affected  by  the  choice,  should  be,  in 
every  instance  consulted.  Though  life 
is  but  a  brief  pilgrimage,  our  beneficent 
Creator  has  bounteously  ordained  that  it 
should  teem  with  comforts  for  those  who 
are  prudent  enough  to  seek  them,  and 
rational  enough  to  appreciate  them  when 
found :  and  no  source  of  happiness  can 


208  CALTHORPE. 

be  named,  that  is  at  once  so  pure  and 
so  copious,  as  that  which  is  found  in  the 
union  of  congenial  minds,  —  suitable 
ages,  and  ^ell-assorted  tempers.  Your 
mother  can  tell  you  that  I  speak  from 
experience." 

"  But  every  good  has  its  evil,"  said 
Mrs.  Burleigh  ;  "  every  joy  has  a  sorrow 
in  its  train.  That  we  have  been  most 
happy  is  undoubtedly  true ;  but  even 
this  happiness  will  resolve  itself  even- 
tually into  pain.  How  sad  will  that 
period  be  when  it  arrives,  which  demon- 
strates that  the  sentence  pronounced  by 
the  Eternal  against  all  our  offending  race, 
is  about  to  be  carried  into  effect  against 
one  of  us  !  How  terrible  our  final  separ- 
ation !" 

"  Some  painful  moments  must  be 
endured  no  doubt.  We  cannot  part,  but 
with  reluctance,  from  the  form  we  Iiave 
long  loved  and  cherished  j  and  fond  regret 
will  tearfully  linger  round  the  grave  of 
the  departed.     But  religion  teaches  that 


cAlthorpe.  209 

that  separation  shall  not  be  final/' 
**  Death,"  Dr.  Franklin  has  well  remark- 
ed, **  is  as  necessary  to  our  constitution 
as  sleep  j  we  shall  wake  refreshed  in  the 
morning."  This  thought  is  fancifully 
illustrated  in  the  last  **  Literary  Ga- 
zette." The  article  I  allude  to  is  not 
long.     Harriet  will  read  it  to  you." 

Here  Mr.  Burleigh  directed  the  atten- 
tion of  his  daughter  to  a  little  poem  in 
the  publication  which  he  had  mentioned  ; 
and  Harriet,  in  compliance  with  tlie  wish 
just  expressed,  read  it  aloud  :  — 

«  INFANCY  AND  MATURITY. 

"  'Twas  eight  o'clock,  and  near  the  fire 

My  ruddy  little  boy  was  seated  j 
And  with  the  titles  of  a  sire. 

My  ears  expected  to  be  greeted. 
But  vain  the  thought;  by  sleep  oppressed. 

No  father  there  the  child  descried  j 
His  head  reclined  upon  his  breast, 

Or,  nodding,  rolled  from  side  to  side. 

•*  *  Let  this  young  rogue  be  sent  to  bed.* 

More  I  had  not  had  time  to  say ; 
When  the  poor  urchin  raised  his  head, 

To  beg  that  he  might  longer  stay. 


.^10  CALTHORPE. 

Refused,  —  towards  rest  his  steps  he  bent. 
With  tearful  eye  and  aching  heai't ; 

But  claimed  his  playthings  ere  he  went, 
And  took  up  stairs  his  horse  and  cart. 

"  For  new  delay,  though  oft  denied. 

He  pleaded ;  —  wildly  craved  the  boon : 
Though  past  the  usual  time,  he  cried 

At  being  sent  to  bed  so  soon. 
If  stern  to  him,  his  grief  I  shared ; 

(Who  hears,  unmov'd,  his  offspring  weep  ?) 
Of  soothing  him  I  half  despaired. 

When  all  his  cares  were  lost  in  sleep. 

"*  Alas !  poor  infant!'  I  exclaimed, 

*  Thy  father  blushes  now  to  scan. 
In  those  complaints  he  lately  blamed. 

The  follies  and  the  fears  of  man. 
The  vain  regret,  the  anguish  brief. 

Which  thou  hast  known,  sent  up  to  bed ; 
Pourtray,  of  man,  the  idle  grief. 

When  doom'd  to  slumber  with  the  dead.' 

"  And  more  I  thought,*— while  up  the  stairs. 

With  *  longing,  lingering  looks'  he  crept]; 
To  mark,  of  man,  the  childish  cares. 

His  playthings  carefully  he  kept. 
Thus  mortals  on  Life's  later  stage. 

When  Nature  claims  their  forfeit  breath ; 
Still  sigh  for  wealth,  in  pain  and  age. 

And  cling  to  golden  toys  in  death. 

"  'Tis  morn  !  and  see  my  smiling  boy, 
Awakes  to  hail  returning  light ; 

To  reckless  laughter  —  boundless  joy  — 
Forgot  the  tears  of  yesternight. 


CALTHORPE.  ^ill 

Thus,  shall  not  man  forget  his  woe  ?  — 
Survive  of  age  and  death  the  gloom  ?  — 

Smile  at  the  cares  deplored  below  ? 
And,  renovated,  burst  the  tomb  ? 

"  O  !  my  Creator  !  when  thy  will. 

Shall  stretch  this  form  on  earth's  cold  bed. 
Let  that  blest  hope  sustain  me  still, 

'Till  mem'ry, —  sense,  —  life,  —  all  are  fled. 
And,  grateful  for  what  thou  raayest  give, 

No  tear  shall  dim  my  fading  eye. 
That  'twas  thy  pleasure  I  should  live. 

That  'tis  thy  mandate  bids  me  die." 

All  approved  of  the  sentiments  em- 
bodied in  the  poem ;  and,  after  a  few 
comments  on  it,  their  conversation  was 
interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  a  ser- 
vant, who,  unbidden,  attended  at  the 
hour  of  ten,  to  spread  the  last  simple 
meal  of  the  day.  Of  this,  having  spar- 
ingly  partaken,  Mr.  Burleigh  said  he 
would  retire,  as  he  felt  unusually  heavy 
for  sleep.  Before  pronouncing  *<  the 
parting  word,  good  night,"  he  expressed 
an  intention  of  rising  early,  and  of  walk- 
ing on  the  Twickenham  side  of  the  river, 
if  the  morning  should  prove  fine ;  and  it 
was   arranged   that   Harriet  should   ac- 


212  CALTHORPE. 

company  him.  Mr.  Burleigh  was  always 
impatient  of  any  want  of  punctuality  ; 
and,  to  guard  against  this,  he  made  it  a 
rule  to  name  the  precise  hour  at  which 
an  appointment  was  to  be  attended  to ; 
and  a  few  minutes  before  it  arrived,  those 
who  had  business  to  transact,  or  pleasure 
to  pursue  with  him,  were  always  sure  of 
finding  him  perfectly  ready.  He  named 
the  hour  of  six  for  their  departure. 

Harriet,  aware  of  the  peculiarity  of 
her  father  which  has  been  noticed,  when 
a  singularly  brilliant  morning  awoke  her 
from  repose,  lost  no  time  in  preparing 
for  the  intended  walk.  She  rose  at  five, 
and  found  herself  ready  to  join  him, 
while  more  than  half  an  hour  was  want- 
ing to  the  time  he  had  named.  Resolved 
to  wait  for  him  in  the  garden,  she  play- 
fully tapped  at  his  chamber  door  as  she 
passed,  to  let  him  know  how  much  she 
had  been  on  the  alert.  When  in  the 
garden  she  perceived  his  window  open, 
and  expected  every  moment  to  see  him, 


CALTHORPE.  213 

as,  from  the  sash  being  thrown  up,  it 
seemed  quite  plain  that  he  was  stirring : 
but  the  clock  struck  six,  and  he  came  not. 
And  now  Harriet  thought  of  the  playful 
reproof  she  might  bestow  on  her  father, 
for  a  failure  which  he  would  have  been 
so  prompt  to  censure  in  her.  She 
knocked  at  his  door,  but  received  no 
answer.  It  was  half  past  six,  and  he 
had  not  made  his  appearance  ;  she  there- 
fore felt  justified  in  making  another  ef- 
fort to  disturb  him,  but  this  was  attended 
with  no  better  success  than  the  former. 
Concluding  that  he  was  unusually  heavy 
for  sleep,  she  would  not  knock  very  loud, 
and  again  betook  herself  to  the  garden. 
Seven  o'clock  passed ;  eight  sounded ; 
and  still  she  waited  in  vain.  It  was  now 
too  late  for  the  w^alk  they  had  planned ; 
but  when  two  more  hours  had  passed, 
and  her  father  still  remained  invisible, 
she  began  to  feel  surprise  resolving  itself 
into  alarm,  in  which  Mrs.  Burleigh  par- 
ticipated.    Repeated  efforts  to  wake  the 


214.  CALTHORPIi. 

sleeper  proved  useless  ;  and  at  length  it 
became  but  too  apparent  that  something 
extraordinary  had  happened.  The  appre- 
hensions of  the  family  increased,  —  they 
became  unbearable ;  and,  finally,  it  was 
resolved  that  the  door  should  be  forced. 
This  was  done,  and  a  spectacle  of  in- 
describable horror  was  disclosed.  Mr. 
Burleigh  was  found  lifeless,  —  cold,  — 
and  covered  with  blood,  A  surgeon  was 
sent  for ;  and  he  arrived  in  time  to  be  of 
service  to  Mrs.  Burleigh  and  Harriet ; 
but  he  instantly  declared  that  from  Mr. 
Burleigh,  the  vital  spark  had  fled  for 
ever. 


CALTHORPE.  215 


CHAP.  XII. 


"  Yet  is  the  tale,  brief  though  it  be,  as  strange, 
As  full  methinks  of  wild  and  wondrous  change, 
As  any,  that  the  wandering  tribes  require. 
Stretched  in  the  desert,  round  their  evening  fire, 
As  any  sung  of  old  in  hall  or  bower 
To  minstrel  harps  at  midnight's  witching  hour." 

Rogers. 


1  HE  necessary  preliminary  steps  having 
been  taken  on  the  third  day  after  the 
decease  of  Mr.  Burleigh,  the  Coroner 
for  the  county,  Mr.  Catastrophe,  arrived 
to  hold  an  inquest  on  the  body.  It 
was  thought  convenient,  that  the  jury 
should  meet  at  the  nearest  inn ;  and 
there  having  assembled  at  an  early  hour, 
Mr.  Catastrophe,  after  ordering  break- 
fast,  proposed  that  they  should  adjourn 
to  the  house  of  the  late  Mr.  Burleigh, 


216  .  CALTHORPE. 

in  order  to  take  a  view  of  the  subject 
of  their  intended  deliberations.  This  sug- 
gestion was  of  course  promptly  attended 
to,  and  the  jury  left  the  inn  to  pay  their 
solemn  visit  in  due  form. 

Mr.  Catastrophe  had  seen  about  sixty 
years,  and  had  held  his  present  situation 
for  a  long  period.  Now  verging  on  old 
age,  his  sleek  countenance  told  that  he 
had  lived  well,  and  though  the  upper 
part  of  his  head  was  completely  bald, 
the  fine  polish  that  adorned  it  might,  in 
the  eyes  of  many,  appear  a  greater  em- 
bellishment to  his  person,  than  the  hair 
which  in  his  younger  days  had  flourished 
on  that  spot.  A  skulking  wrinkle  or 
two,  had  found  their  way  into  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  his  eyebrows;  but  these, 
combined  with  a  habit  which  he  had 
of  half  closing  his  eyes,  seemed  rather 
to  attest  the  shrewdness  than  to  record 
the  years  of  the  man  ;  and  the  vigour  of 
his  movements  and  the  vivacity  of  his 
deportment,  might  easily  have  caused  a 


CALTHORPE,  217 

moderately  attentive  beholder,  to  mis- 
take him  for  a  man  of  forty-five  or  fifty. 
Having  reached  the  house,  the  jurors 
were  ushered  with  awful  silence  into  the 
chamber  where  the  body  lay.  The  cur- 
tains were  closed  round  the  bed;  but  these 
being  withdrawn,  by  direction  of  the 
coroner,  the  ghastly  object  of  the  in- 
quest lay  exposed  to  their  view,  and 
they  saw  the  remains  of  Mr.  Burleigh. 
The  night-cap  on  his  head  was  stained 
with  blood,  and  his  face  presented  simi- 
lar stains,  which  came  in  frightful  con- 
trast with  the  pale  sallow  hue  of  death. 
His  eyes  were  half  open,  and  his  mouth 
widely  distended  as  fixed  in  the  last  ago- 
nising gasp  for  breath.  The  neck  was 
terrifically  discolured  from  a  wound  which 
had  been  inflicted  there  ;  but  his  bosom 
presented  a  still  more  appalling  spectacle 
in  the  clots  of  dark  blood,  which  had 
become  congealed  as  the  stream  of  life 
flowed  from  the  heart.  These  half  co- 
vered the  fatal  instrument  by  which  the 

VOL.  I.  L 


^18  CALTHORPE. 

deceased  had  perished,   the  poniard  that 
lay  by  the  side  of  the  dead  man. 

The  jurors  started  in  speechless  hor- 
ror, and  stood  aghast  for  some  moments, 
without  attempting  to  utter  a  word. 
After  a  pause,  their  eyes  were  turned 
towards  Mr.  Catastrophe,  as  if  to  enquire 
whether  they  might  now  quit  the  dread- 
ful scene.  That  gentleman,  serenely 
waiting  for  the  shock  to  subside,  had 
filled  up  the  minute  which  must  pre- 
viously elapse  by  taking  a  pinch  of  snufF, 
and  was  by  this  time  gracefully  tapping 
his  box  preparatory  to  the  introduction 
of  his  thumb  and  finger  for  a  second. 
He  politely  handed  the  fragrant  mixture 
to  those  who  turned  round,  and  after 
restoring  his  box  to  his  pocket,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  business. 

"  Gentlemen,  you  see  how  it  is.  — 
Draw  that  curtain  a  little  further,  John. — 
You  see  how  it  is.  The  deceased  has 
evidently  received  two  wounds  from  a 
poniard,  or  some  other  sharp  pointed  in- 


CALTHORPE.  219 

strument. — I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir ;  I  be- 
lieve I  trod  on  your  toe.  —  This  poniard 
was  in  all  probability  used:  I  perhaps 
ought  rather  to  say  abused ;  but,  how- 
ever, we  are  not  to  quibble  on  words  on 
the  present  awful  occasion.  So,  as  I  was 
saying, — will  you  allow  me  to  pass  you, 
Sir  ? —  tlie  deceased  evidently  lost  his  life 
in  bed.  You  see  the  wounds  which 
have  been  inflicted.  Bless  my  soul !  the 
clock's  striking  eleven,  and  I  must  be 
in  town  by  five  to  dress,  as  I  dine  out. 
I  say  gentlemen,  you  see  the  situation 
in  which  we  have  found  the  deceased, 
the  state  of  the  room,  and  so  forth.  For 
my  own  part,  I  don't  perceive  any  very 
remarkable  features  in  the  case  at  pre- 
sent. We  shall  learn  more  of  it  from 
riie  evidence  ;  so,  gentlemen,  it  will  be 
unnecessarily  consuming  your  valuable 
time  to  detain  you  longer  here." 

Acting  on  the  recommendation  of  Mr, 
Catastrophe,    the  jurors   retraced   their 
steps.     On  their  way  from    the  inn   a 
L  2 


220  cAlthorpe. 

dismal  gloom  invaded  every  countenance, 
and  even  after  their  return,  a  strong  expres- 
sion of  horror  remained.  But  few  days  had 
passed  since  they  had  seen  Mr.  Burleigh 
in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  apparently 
realising  the  brightest  visions  of  earthly 
felicity  that  aspiring  man  can  cherish.  That 
he,  whose  happiness,  but  for  his  mild  de- 
portment and  unostentatious  benevolence, 
all  would  have  envied  —  who,  exempt 
from  the  common  ills  of  life,  they  had 
ever  found  cheerfully  serene,  and  ration- 
ally gay,  should  have  been  presented  to 
them,  a  hideously  swollen  and  blood- 
stained corpse  —  to  all  appearance  a  self- 
murderer,  seemed  a  frightful  dream. 
Occupied  with  such  thoughts,  the  pro- 
cession, as  it  followed  the  tranquil  and 
assured  step  of  Mr.  Catastrophe,  pre- 
sented a  most  sorrowful  aspect ;  and  the 
eye  cast  down,  the  pale  face,  and  dis- 
ordered gait,  sufficiently  indicated  the 
strong  impression  made  on  the  minds  of 
the  individuals  who  formed  the  jury. 


CALTHORPE.  ^21 

Arrived  at  the  inn,  a  blazing  fire,  (the 
morning  being  rather  damp,)  and  a  well- 
carpeted  room,  seemed,  at  first,  wholly 
lost  on  the  melancholy  train.  Mr.  Catas- 
trophe, however,  proved  that  he  was  not 
bereft  of  that  presence  of  mind  which  is 
necessary  to  the  just  performance  of  the 
important  duties  confided  to  the  coroner 
of  a  county,  by  stirring  the  fire,  ringing 
the  bell,  and  ordering  breakfast  to  be 
brought  in  with  all  expedition. 

**  Come,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  we 
must  proceed  to  business  without  loss  of 
time.  —  How  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Muddle  ;  my 
mind  has  been  so  taken  up,  that  really  I 
did  not  perceive  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  an  old  neighbour  on  the  in- 
quest. —  I  wonder  what  the  people  of 
this  house  are  about.  —  Will  you  be  so 
good  as  to  touch  that  bell  again.  —  I  am 
sure  we  must  all  stand  in  need  of  some- 
thing to  carry  us  through  such  a  day  as 
this.  O!  here  it  comes.  Why  youVe 
brought  no  eggs." 

L  3 


2SS  CALTHORPE. 

"  They  are  coming,  Sir,  directly,**  the 
waiter  replied. 

"  Coming  directly!  I  hope  you'll 
make  more  haste  with  them,  than  you've 
made  with  any  thing  else.  Send  some 
ham  up,  too  :  do  you  hear  ?  and  don't 
make  us  wait  an  hour." 

The  animation  of  Mr.  Coroner  soon 
began  to  operate  on  his  colleagues.  The 
death-like  gloom  which  had  fallen  on 
them  began  to  vanish  before  the  bright 
sun  of  his  vivacity,  and  the  comforts  fast 
accumulating  around  them.  Each  began 
to  reflect  and  **  inwardly  to  digest,"  with 
other  matter,  that  though  life  is  brief  and 
precarious,  it  contains  some  delights  which 
rational  men  should  not  fail  to  seize  while 
they  may ;  as,  whether  they  do  so  or  not, 
they  must  be  exposed  to  the  same  perils, 
and  must  finally  sink  beneath  the  in- 
evitable stroke  of  death.  The  beneficial 
progress  of  these  considerations  was  soon 
perceptible,  in  the  tranquil  air  with  which 
the  party  by  the  time  the  orders  of  the 


CALTHORPE.  223 

coroner  had  been  duly  attended  to,  were 
prepared  to  go  through  the  ceremonies 
of  breakfast,  though  these  had  been 
solemnized,  in  the  usual  way,  by  at 
least  half  the  company,  before  the  arrival 
of  Mr.  Catastrophe. 

"  A  very  melancholy  business  this  that 
has  called  us  together,"  he  remarked,  with 
a  grave  air,  at  the  same  time  dismissing 
his  egg-cup,  with  the  incumbent  shell, 
and  reaching  a  second  egg,  "  A  very 
melancholy  business,  upon  my  honour. 
I  do  not  know  that  any  thing  has  occurred 
to  affect  me  so  much  for  a  long  time.  I 
have  really  not  been  myself  since  I  first 
heard  of  it. — Shall  I  trouble  you  to  send 
me  a  slice  of  that  ham,  while  your  hand's 
in." 

"  It  is,  indeed,  very  melancholy,"  — 
"  Very  melancholy,  indeed,"  ran  round 
the  room,  in  a  sort  of  irregular  chorus. 

**  I  was  shocked  beyond  measure.  — 
Not  quite  so  much  fat,  if  you  please," 
Mr.  Catastrophe  proceeded,  addressing 
L  4 


S24  CALTMORPE. 

himself  to  the  gentleman  who  was  then 
in  the  act  of  complying  with  his  requi- 
sition for  a  new  supply  of  ham*  "  There, 
that's  just  the  thing.  I  am  sorry  to  give 
you  so  much  trouble,  but  really  my  ap- 
petite is  so  much  impaired  that  I  am 
obliged  to  study  it  more  than  formerly. — 
Mr.  Burleigh  was  a  man  very  much  re- 
spected I  believe,  and  this  event.  —  An- 
other cup,  if  you  please.  —  What  was  I 
going  to  say  ? —  O  !  Mrs.  Muddle  — I 
((uite  forgot  to  ask  after  her,  I  hope  she 
is  well." 

"  Very  poorly,  indeed.'* 

"  Bless  me,  I'm  extremely  sorry  to 
hear  it.  I  hope  nothing  dangerous.  In 
the  old  way,  I  suppose.  She'll  be  better 
in  eight  or  nine  months.  —  Hey!  You 
can't  leave  off  your  old  tricks." 

Here  Mr.  Catastrophe  treated  the  com- 
pany with  a  laugh,  in  which,  his  eye 
glancing  archly  round  the  table,  invited 
all  present  to  join.  Most  of  the  gentle- 
men,   by  distending  their  nostrils,  and 


CALTHORPE.  225 

giving  them,  with  the  upper  Hp,  a  slight 
elevation,  so  as  to  imitate  that  arrange- 
ment of  the  features  which,  rising  above 
a  smile,  gets  half  way  to  a  laugh,  had  the 
complacency  to  indicate  that  they  under- 
stood the  drift  of  Mr.  Catastrophe's  wit. 
After  being  refreshed  with  a  few  more 
sallies,  nearly  or  altogether  as  brilliant, 
the  real  business  of  the  day  was  com- 
menced under  very  favourable  circum- 
stances, as  the  jury  were  so  far  recovered 
by  the  good  things  they  had  seen, 
heard,  and  tasted,  that  the  morbid  sensi- 
bility which  had,  at  first,  threatened  to 
impede  the  fair  exercise  of  their  reason- 
ing faculties,  was,  thanks  to  the  merito- 
rious exertions  and  wise  arrangements  of 
Mr.  Catastrophe,  completely  dissipated. 

The  servants  of  the  deceased  proved, 
that  Mr.  Burleigh  had  been  alive,  and, 
apparently,  in  good  health,  on  the  night 
preceding  the  morning  on  which  he  was 
found  dead  in  his  bed.  Several  of  them 
remembered  that  his  air  and  manner,  had 
L  5 


226  CALTHORPE. 

been  strange  of  late.  One  had  seen 
him  reading  in  the  garden,  when  his 
mind  appeared  so  unusually  abstracted, 
that  he  neither  saw  the  deponent,  nor  a 
flower-pot  which  stood  in  his  way,  till  he 
had  nearly  fallen  over  it.  About  the 
same  period  he  had  called  another  John, 
whose  name  was  Thomas ;  and  one  day, 
when  news  was  taken  to  him,  in  his 
study,  that  dinner  was  on  table,  he  started 
up  with  an  air  of  surprise,  exclaiming, 
"  Bless  me!  —  I  forgot  that  I  had  not 
dined." 

The  medical  gentleman  who  had  been 
called  in  when  the  first  alarm  was  given, 
described,  with  much  technical  parade, 
the  situation  in  which  the  deceased  had 
been  found,  and  the  wounds  which  he 
had  received.  He  had  sought,  but  in 
vain,  to  discover  any  pulsation  in  the 
wrist,  or  in  the  region  of  the  heart.  Wit- 
ness was  of  opinion  that  the  deceased's 
death  was  occasioned  by  loss  of  blood, 
from  the  wound  in  his  breast;  and  by 


CALTHORPE.  227 

the  obstruction  of  breathing  caused  by 
the  stab  in  his  wind-pipe.  Both  wounds 
were  evidently  inflicted  by  the  poniard 
found  on  the  bed. 

John  Jackson,  a  gentleman's  servant, 
deposed  that  he  had  seen  a  man  jump 
over  Mr.  Burleigh's  garden  wall,  be- 
tween one  and  two  in  the  morning,  and 
run  away  immediately  on  perceiving  him 
on  the  outside ;  but,  supposing  it  to  be 
Frank  Tibbins,  Betty  Notable's  sweet- 
heart, he  did  not  give  any  alarm. 

Betty  Notable,  the  housemaid,  was 
next  examined.  She  admitted  that  Frank 
Tibbins  had  been  with  her  in  the  garden 
after  the  rest  of  the  family  had  retired 
for  the  night ;  and  also  that  he  had  made 
good  his  retreat  by  leaping  from  the  wall. 
She,  however,  denied  that  it  was  so  late 
as  one  o'clock.  In  all  her  statements  she 
was  corroborated  by  the  evidence  of 
Frank  Tibbins. 

A  paper  was  now  produced,  which  had 
been  found  on  the  table  of  the  deceased, 
L  6 


228  CALTHORPE. 

and  was  supposed  to  have  been  written 
immediately  before  the  rash  act  was  com- 
mitted. It  was  signed  with  his  name, 
and  ran  as  follows  :  — 

"  To  those  I  leave  behind  me, 

*«  Life  has  become  an  intolerable  bur- 
den to  me,  which  I  think,  after  bearing 
it  so  long,  I  have  a  right  to  lay  down. 
I  leave  this,  that  it  may  be  known  the 
deed  I  am  about  to  commit  is  my  own 
act,  that  no  other  mortal  may  be  sus- 
pected of  that  crime  (if  it  be  one)  which 
is  mine,  and  mine  alone. 

"  George  Burleigh." 

The  note  was  viewed  with  the  most 
intense  interest  by  the  whole  of  the 
jurors,  and  listened  to  with  the  most 
thrilling  sensations  of  awe. 

It  escaped  not  the  eye  of  Mr.  Catas- 
trophe that  they  were  much  affected ; 
and  he  forthwith  remarked,  that,  after 
the  fatigue  they  had  already  undergone. 


CALTHORPE*  ^^9 

a  glass  of  Madeira  and  a  sandwich  would 
be  no  bad  things  to  introduce  in  this 
stage  of  the  proceedings,  before  they 
called  witnesses  to  prove  the  hand-writ- 
ing of  the  deceased.  He  accordingly 
rung  the  bell,  and  the  landlord  attending 
on  the  instant,  the  order  was  given. 

When  the  wine  made  its  appearance, 
the  coroner,  after  tasting  it,  pronounced 
a  verdict  in  its  favour.  The  gentlemen 
of  the  jury,  one  after  another,  took  a 
glass  on  his  recommendation,  and  pre* 
sently  felt  themselves  very  considerably 
relieved.  In  the  breathing  time  thus 
afforded,  Mr.  Muddle  enquired  of  Mr. 
Catastrophe,  w^hen  he  had  seen  their 
friend  Squire  Freakish. 

**  Met  him,"  replied  the  coroner,  "  by 
mere  chance,  this  day  week,  at  our  old 
house,  the  King's  Arms.  We  had  a  quest 
there,  on  a  lady  who  was  burnt  to 
death.  I  arrived  too  soon,  and  luckily 
stumbled  on  Jack  Freakish ;  so  w^e  played 
a  game  at  billiards  till  the  jurors  arrived. 


230  CALTHORPE. 

He  waited  for  me  till  it  was  over.  I  soon 
knocked  off  the  business,  and  then  we 
dined  together  at  the  King's  Arms  ;  had 
some  of  Swig's  best  —  number  thirty-five. 
You  remember  the  number.  The  binn 
is  not  out  yet,  but  it  gets  low.  We 
had  a  very  merry  day  together,  I  assure 
youc" 

The  sandwiches  were  now  brought  iw, 
and  the  landlord  made  his  appearance, 
to  express  regret  that  there  was  no  cold 
fowl  in  the  house.  This  was  kindly  ex- 
cused by  Mr.  Catastrophe,  who,  how- 
ever, remarked  that  some  of  the  gentle- 
men might  prefer  a  glass  of  Port,  and  it 
might  therefore  be  as  well  to  bring  in  a 
bottle.     He  added : 

*'  Of  course  the  family  have  given 
orders  to  have  every  thing  provided  for 
the  accommodation  of  the  gentlemen  of 
the  jury,  that  may  be  required." 

"Sir?" 

The  note  of  interrogation  that  accom- 
panied   the    monosyllable,     which    last 


CALTHORPE.  2S1 

escaped  the  landlord,  was  not  exactly  to 
the  taste  of  the  coroner.  To  him  there 
appeared  something  suspicious  in  it.  He 
therefore  went  on : 

**  I  say  the  family  have,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  directed  you  to  provide  whatever 
may  be  requisite  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  gentlemen  on  the  inquest." 

"  No  sir ;  I  have  received  no  orders 
from  any  one  but  yourself;  but  1  shall 
be  very  happy  to  supply  whatever  Mr. 
Catastrophe  may  think  proper  to  call  for. 
—  Did  you  say  a  bottle  of  Port  ?*' 

"  Hey  !  —  yes  —  stay  —  gentlemen, 
shall  we  have  any  Port  this  morning? 
It's  rather  early  to  begin  drinking 
Port." 

All  the  jurors,  who  had  been  perfectly 
willing  that  a  bottle  of  Port  should  crown 
the  festivity  of  the  morning,  while  they 
supposed  somebody  else  was  to  pay  for 
it,  now  declared,  unci  voce,  that  they 
could  not  drink  Port  before  dinner ;  so 


2S2  CALTHORPE. 

the  question  was  carried  in  the  negative, 
and  the  landlord  left  the  room. 

Mr.  Catastrophe  looked  unusually 
grave.  He  had  ordered  refreshments, 
and  the  jurors  might  suppose,  unless  he 
gave  them  to  understand  the  contrary, 
that  if  no  one  else  came  forward,  he  in- 
tended to  pay  for  them  out  of  his  own 
pocket.  This  apprehension  gave  his  feel- 
ings a  very  severe  shock. 

**  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  *•  this  is  really 
quite  unprecedented.  On  an  inquest 
like  this,  it  was  of  course  to  be  supposed 
that  the  friends  of  the  deceased,  whom 
we  all  know  to  be  rolling  in  wealth,  would 
have  taken  especial  care  that  the  jurors 
should  be  properly  accommodated.  Lord 
Burleigh,  for  the  sake  of  a  brother,  I 
should  have  expected,  would  have  looked 
to  this,  even  though  confined  to  his  cham- 
ber by  the  gout.  However,  gentlemen, 
you  see  how  it  is :  we  are  left  to  make  a 
Yorkshire  club  of  it." 


CALTHORPE.  ^33 

The  jurors  were  unanimously  of  opi- 
nion that  some  accommodation  ought  to 
have  been  provided  by  the  relations 
of  the  deceased ;  the  sandwiches  and 
Madeira  were  not  relished  half  so  well 
as  the  breakfast  had  been,  and  the  sus- 
pended enquiry  was  resumed  with  much 
sullen  dignity. 

Several  witnesses  who  knew  the  hand 
writing  of  Mr.  Burleigh  were  examined, 
all  of  whom  believed,  —  were  confident, 
—  had  no  doubt  that  the  paper  produced 
to  them  had  been  written  by  the  de- 
ceased. Two  or  three  persons  came 
forward  to  prove  acts  of  insanity;  but 
what  they  deposed  served  only  to  show 
that  much  occasional  abstraction  of  mind 
had  been  remarked  in  Mr.  Burleigh,  and 
the  former  evidence  on  this  subject  was 
not  at  all  strengthened  by  what  these 
witnesses  advanced. 

The  coroner,' when  he  came  to  sum 
up,  addressing  the  jury,  said,  "  In  the 
earlier  stages  of  this   business,  he  had 


234i  CALTHORPE. 

inclined  to  the  opinion  that  the  deceased 
was  insane  when  he  committed  the  fatal 
act ;  but  he  confessed  that  he  was  much 
staggered  by  the  paper  which  had  been 
produced,  and  which  had  been  proved 
to  be  in  Mr.  Burleigh's  hand-writing. 
That  which  had  been  advanced  to  prove 
insanity,  he  could  not  help  thinking, 
went  rather  to  indicate  that  mental 
absence  which  was  not  uncommon  in 
men  of  studious  habits,  than  any  positive 
derangement  of  intellect.  They  had, 
however,  first  to  consider,  whether  the 
wounds  had  been  inflicted  by  the  de- 
ceased himself,  or  by  some  other  hand. 
On  this  head  he  thought  the  evidence 
quite  conclusive ;  and  having  briefly 
stated  to  them  the  law  applicable  to  self- 
murder,  he  left  it  to  them  to  decide  on 
the  merits  of  the  case." 

After  deliberating  for  about  an  hour, 
the  jury  decided  that  the  deceased  died 
by  his  own  hand,  and  returned  a  verdict 
of  Felo  de  se. 


CALTHORPE.  235 

Mr.  Catastrophe  immediately  entered 
the  verdict,  and  signed  the  necessary 
documents, .  directing  the  interment  of 
the  deceased  in  the  cross-roads,  and 
claiming  his  property  for  the  crown. 
While  mechanically  affixing  his  name  to 
the  papers  presented  for  signature  by 
his  clerk,  he  called  for  the  bill.  This 
produced,  he  ascertained  to  a  fraction 
what  each  had  to  pay,  named  the  sum 
which  it  would  be  proper  to  give  to  the 
waiter,  and  put  down  his  share  of  the 
reckoning.  Then  having  made  a  few 
additional  remarks  on  the  unfeeling  con- 
duct of  the  relatives  of  the  deceased,  in 
failing  to  attend  to  the  accommodation 
of  the  gentlemen  summoned  to  enquire 
how  he  came  by  his  end  ;  he  ordered 
his  gig  to  the  door,  and  bade  all  present 
good  morning,  after  declining  a  civil 
invitation  from  Mr.  Muddle  for  the  fol- 
lowing day,  on  the  ground  that  he  had 
to  hold  an  inquest  on  the  body  of  a  man 
whose  head  had  been  crushed  to  pieces 


236  CALTHORPE. 

by  a  steam-engine,  and  was  fearful  the 
business  would  hardly  be  over  in  time  to 
admit  of  his  dining  with  a  party  of 
friends,  whom  he  was  extremely  anxious 
to  accompany  to  the  new  comedy. 


CALTHORPE.  237 


CHAP.  XIII. 

'*  0  Thou,  the  friend  of  man  assign'd, 
With  balmy  hands  his  wounds  to  bind, 

And  charm  his  frantic  woe  : 
Wh^n  first  distress,  with  dagger  keen, 
Broke  forth  to  waste  his  destin'd  scene, 

His  wild  unsated  foe."  Collins'^  Ode  to  P'dy. 

1  HE  return  of  day  brought  no  solace  to 
Henry.  Exhausted,  partly  by  fatigue, 
but  more  from  mental  anguish,  even  the 
sad  tranquillity  of  despair  was  denied  to 
him,  and  the  shrieks  of  a  frantic  mother, 
or  the  sobs  of  a  fainting  sister,  inces- 
santly called  for  assistance  from  him, 
who  could  not  but  with  difficulty  sustain 
himself. 

Thus  sadly  passed  the  hours  till  noon, 
when  an  earnest  request  to  be  permitted 
to   see  the   ladies,    was    received    from 


^3S  CALTHORPE. 

Sir  James  Denville.  The  baronet  was 
at  Dover  when  the  newspapers,  contain- 
ins:  the  mournful  account  of  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh's  death,  were  received.  On  read- 
ing this,  he  returned  with  all  possible 
expedition  to  London.  He  got  to  Rich- 
mond an  hour  or  two  before  Henry,  but 
considering  the  peculiar  circumstances 
of  their  situation,  he  contented  himself 
with  sending  his  respects  to  Mrs.  and 
Miss  Burleigh,  and  declining  to  intrude 
on  their  sorrows  that  night,  expressed 
a  hope  that  he  might  be  permitted  to 
condole  with  them  in  the  morning. 

On  entering,  Sir  James  took  the  hand 
of  the  mother  with  an  air  of  the  tenderest 
regard,  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  He 
attempted  the  language  of  consolation, 
but  the  words  he  would  have  uttered 
died  away  in  fauitering  murmurs,  and 
his  agitation  was  increased,  when  his 
eyes  fell  on  the  pale  and  *«  woe  begone'* 
Harriet.  In  that  moment  she  seemed 
falling  from  her  chair.     He  flew  to  her 


CALTHORPE.  239 

support,  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and 
replaced  her  in  her  seat,  while  he  con- 
jured her  with  equal  earnestness  and 
piety,  to  bear  the  calamity  which  had 
fallen  on  her  family  and  herself  with 
fortitude,  and  hoping  still  for  the  best, 
to  submit  with  becoming  resignation  to 
the  will  of  the  Supreme  disposer  of 
events,  whose  mysterious  dispensations 
it  was  not  for  blind  and  erring  mortals 
to  arraign,  or  even  for  an  instant  to 
question. 

This  admonition,  however  well-suited 
to  the  occasion,  produced  little  effect  on 
the  party  to  Vv^hom  it  was  addressed  ;  as, 
if  heard  at  alJ,  it  was  but  very  imper- 
fectly understood.  Sir  James  quitted 
Harriet,  again  to  approach  her  parent ; 
and  turning  to  her,  he  started  at  seeing 
Henry,  whom  till  then  he  had  not  per- 
ceived. He  embraced  him  in  silence, 
but  with  all  the  eager  warmth  of  friend- 
ship j  and,  after  labouring  for  some  mo- 


I 


g40  CALTHORPE. 

nients  to  stifle  the  emotions  of  his  heart, 
he  solemnly  exclaimed : 

"  This  is  a  sad  meeting,  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh/' 

Henry  replied  not  but  by  shaking  the 
hand  which  clasped  his.  Sir  James  made 
several  attempts  to  engage  the  ladies  in 
conversation  ;  but  failing  in  each,  he  felt 
that  this  was  not  a  proper  time  for  pro- 
longing his  visit,  and  accordingly  retired. 
At  his  request,  Henry  accompanied  him 
down  stairs,  where,  finding  themselves 
alone,  Sir  James  gave  freer  vent  to  his 
feelings  than  he  had  had  an  opportunity 
of  doing  before. 

"  Never,"  said  he,  *'  never  can  I  for- 
get the  dreadful  agony  of  mind,  with 
which  I  read  the  heart-rending  account 
of  your  good  father's  death.  I  felt  my 
blood  curdle  at  my  heart,  and  a  general 
convulsion  of  nature  could  not  have  in- 
spired in  me,  a  more  horrible  conster- 
-nation.     You  feel  deeply  the  irreparable 


CALTHORPE.  241 

loss  which  you  have  sustained.  To  you 
he  was  an  excellent  parent  -,  but  nature 
gave  you  a  claim  on  his  benevolence 
which  could  not  be  set  aside.  He  was 
more  than  a  father  to  me,  who  had  no 
such  claim  to  urge.  The  calamity  is 
therefore  even  greater  in  my  case  than 
in  yours.  Your  affliction  is  great ;  but 
mine  is  infinite."' 

"  Misery  cannot  be  measured,  Sir 
James.  Your  sensibility  has  been  deeply 
wounded ;  but  that  your  anguish  can 
transcend  mine,  is  not  within  the  range 
of  things  possible." 

"  True,  my  dear  friend;  misery  cannot 
be  very  accurately  measured,  as  you  say. 
I  doubt  not  our  feelings  are  much  alike. 
Bitterly  do  I  lament  the  accident  which 
prevented  me  from  seeing  the  fatal  intel- 
ligence, the  first  hour  it  was  received  at 
Dover.  As  it  happened,  half  a  day  was 
lost,  or  I  might  have  been  sufficiently 
early  for  the  coroner's  inquest.  But  it 
is  of  no  use  to  look  back  now.     Had  I 

VOL,  I.  M 


242  CALTHORPE. 

but  arrived  in  time,  I  might  have  given 
such  evidence  as  would  have  prevented 
that  brutal  verdict/' 

"  How  !  Could  you  have  proved  that 
my  father  did  not  fall  by  his  own 
hand?'' 

This  question  was  put  with  an  eager- 
ness that  surprised  the  baronet ;  and  for 
several  seconds  he  gazed  on  the  inquirer 
in  silent  astonishment. 

"  You  amaze  me  by  asking  that  ques- 
tion !" 

"  I  understood  you  to  use  words  to 
that  effect.  Did  you  not  say,  that  your 
evidence,  if  it  had  been  given,  would 
have  produced  a  different  verdict?'* 

"  That,  I  did  say,  and  that  I  sincerely 
believe;  but  as  to  proving  he  did  not 
die  by  his  own  hand  —  that  I  am  sorry 
to  say  was  wholly  out  of  the  question. 
No,  my  dear  Sir,  I  could  not  have  proved 
any  thing  of  that  sort ;  but  I  think 
I  might  have  satisfied  the  coroner  and 


CALTHORPE.  S43 

his  colleagues  that  the  deceased  was  in  a 
state  of  insanity.'* 

"  Indeed!" 

*<  I  am  sure  of  it.  I  have  seen  your 
father  more  frequently  than  you  have  of 
late.  The  conversations  I  have  had  with 
him  on  various  subjects,  have  really  been 
of  such  a  character,  that  for  a  very  con- 
siderable period,  I  have  thought  his  in- 
tellect not  what  it  used  to  be." 

"  /am  surprised  to  hear  this.  From 
no  one  else  did  I  ever  receive  the  slightest 
intimation  of  that  change  in  his  deport- 
ment, which  appears  to  have  fixed  your 
attention." 

"  What  I  have  said,  you  may  rest  as- 
sured is  the  truth.  I  have  had  con  vers- 
at  ions  with  him  about  your  sister ;  and 
perhaps  you  will  be  surprised  to  hear  that 
he  actually  refused  me,  when  I  offered 
to  become  his  son-in-law." 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  he  had  refused 
you.  Sir  James." 

"  He    absolutely    rejected    me,    and 

M    2 


£44  CALTHORFE. 

spurned  at  the  same  time  an  offer  highly 
for  your  advantage,  of  which  I  will  say 
no  more  at  present.  His  conduct,  I 
think,  with  respect  to  Harriet,  is  suf- 
ficient to  prove  my  judgment  correct." 

"  On  the  subject  of  the  honour  (so  he 
always  called  it)  that  you  had  done  him, 
by  offering  to  marry  into  his  family,  he 
has  spoken,  and  repeatedly  written  to 
me  ;  and  I  cannot  Say  that  any  symptom 
of  mental  derangement  ever  appeared 
connected  with  what  fell  from  his  tongue, 
or  his  pen  on  such  occasions.*' 

"  Well,  but  the  refusal  itself — " 
*  '*  Might  be  extraordinary,  all  circum- 
stances considered ;  but  certainly  my 
father  was  a  man  whose  actions  were 
often  at  variance  with  the  common  cal- 
culations of  prudence.  Were  I  to  give 
an  opinion,  I  should  say,  that  he  de- 
layed to  give  his  consent,  but  never 
made  up  his  mind  to  refuse  the  pro- 
posed connection." 

"  If  you  had  heard  his  conversations 


CALTHORPE.  S45 

with  me,  your  opinion,  my  dear  Henry, 
would  have  been  very  different.  For  my 
own  part,  I  am  convinced  of  his  insanity ; 
and  you  must  agree  with  me,  that,  had 
he  been  of  sound  mind,  he  would  never 
thus  have  rushed  into  the  presence  of  a 
justly  offended  Creator/' 

"  I  am  not  more  certain  of  my  own 
existence,''  cried  Henry,  with  warmth, 
<*  than  I  am  that  my  dear  father  was  in- 
sane when  he  committed  this  dreadful 
act,  if  indeed  he  did  commit  it." 

"  i/7"  echoed  the  baronet,  "  If!  he 
did  commit  it.  Why,  good  God !  Can 
you  —  can  you  doubt? — What  do  your 
words  imply  ?" 

"  Both  doubt  and  suspicion." 

"  Suspicion  of  whom?  Doubt  of 
what?" 

"  I  hardly  know  what  I  say ;  and  my 
mind  is  such  a  frightful  chaos,  that  its 
few  unarranged  and  imperfectly  formed 
ideas,  I  should  fear  to  utter  to  any  other 
person.  With  you  Sir  James,  on  this 
M  3 


S46  CALTHORPE, 

subject  I  can  have  no  reserve ;  and  in 
your  presence  I  hesitate  not  to  affirm, 
that  I  suspect  my  honoured  father  to 
have  been  murdered." 

The  blood  fled  from  the  baronet's 
cheek  as  the  last  word  was  uttered.  The 
horrible  idea  seemed  too  much  for  him  ; 
and  he  faintly  exclaimed, 

"  Good  God  r 

"  I  do  believe  it.** 

"  But,  why  ?'*  enquired  Sir  James, 
with  a  strong  expression  of  incredulity 
in  his  countenance.  "  Who  could  be 
capable  of  a  crime  so  appalling  ?'* 

*«  The  wretch,  the  villain,  the  mon- 
ster, whose  execrable  barbarity  but 
recently  assailed  the  peace  and  honour  of 
my  revered  parent,  in  the  person  of  his 
only  daughter.*' 

Sir  James  seemed  riveted  to  the  spot 
in  silent  horror.     Henry  continued, 

"  I  cannot  but  think  that  I  see  a  con- 
nection between  the  two  acts.  The 
villain  who  had  so  nearly  succeeded  in 


CALTHORPE.  247 

carrying  off  my  sister,  has  basely  revenged 
his  defeat,  by  assassinating  the  parent  of 
his  intended  victim." 

"  Can  it  be  possible  !"  exclaimed  Sir 
James, 

"  The  idea  gains  strength  with  each 
succeeding  moment.  —  But  I  shall  trace 
the  blood-hound  to  his  retreat.  The 
clue  will  not  be  for  ever  wanting.  Will 
you  not  join  to  hunt  the  monster  from 
his  hiding  place  ?  to  expose  his  infamy 
to  the  world,  and  give  the  sacrile- 
gious miscreant  that  death  of  shame  he 
merits  ?** 

The  wildness  of  Henry's  manner  be- 
came alarming.  Sir  James  darted  a 
piercing  glance  at  him,  which  seemed  to 
search  his  very  heart.  Henry  perceived 
it,  and  remarked  on  it. 

"  I  know,  my  friend,  your  feelings. 
You  suspect  that  I  am  bewildered  myself. 
No  such  thing.  The  settled  impression 
on  my  mind  is,  that  my  father  was  no 
self-murderer.  Convinced  of  that,  my 
M  4 


S48  CALTHORPE. 

soul    can    never    know   peace,    till  the 
assassin  shall  be  brought  to  his  account." 

"  To  me  it  appears,  that  you  are  rash 
in  coming  to  such  a  conclusion." 

"  Not  at  all.  — That  which  you  would 
kindly  regard  as  insanity,  and  were 
anxious  to  depose  to,  in  the  hope  of 
saving  my  father's  fame,  and  the  pro- 
perty forfeited  by  the  crime,  which  he 
is  supposed  to  have  committed,  I  can 
view  in  no  such  light.  1  believe  him  to 
have  been  of  sound  mind  up  to  the  hour 
when  he  retired  on  that  fatal  night, 
which  witnessed  his  dissolution." 

"  But  you  forget  the  evidence  given 
before  the  coroner  5  "and  here  Sir  James 
reminded  him  of  the  depositions  of  several 
witnesses.  When  he  mentioned  the  note 
which  had  been  produced,  and  which 
purported  to  be  the  confession  of  the 
deceased,  that  he  raised  his  hand  against 
his  own  life,  Henry  was  staggered,  and 
impatiently  enquired  for  that  paper.  Sir 
James  was  also   anxious  to  see  it,  and 


CALTHORPE.  €49 

both  on  the  instant  united  their  efforts 
to  obtain  a  view  of  it.  It  was  produced ; 
and,  at  the  first  glance,  Sir  James  shook 
his  head,  and  handed  it  to  Henry,  who 
scrutinized  it  word  by  word,  and  letter 
by  letter,  but  without  being  able  to  dis- 
cover the  smallest  imperfection  on  which 
to  hang  suspicion.  He  was  convinced  that 
his  father  had  written  it,  and  to  the  ques- 
tion put  to  him  by  the  baronet,  as  to 
whether  he  had  now  any  doubt,  he  could 
only  answer, 

*'  I  cannot  question  the  hand-writing. 
It  most  certainly  is  that  of  my  father." 

And  with  these  words  he  sunk  into  a 
chair,  and  folding  his  arms,  seemed  to 
retire  within  himself.  Forgetful  of  the 
presence  of  Sir  James,  he  no  longer 
attempted  to  sustain  a  conversation.  He 
did  not  even  answer  questions  addressed 
to  him,  for  he  heard  them  not.  His 
whole  soul  was  occupied  in  a  vain  en- 
deavour to  account  for  the  note  being 

|M  5 


250  CALTHORPB. 

written  by  his  father,  without  believing 
him  to  be  a  suicide. 

««  It  is  all  in  vain,"  he  at  length  said  ; 
"  I  cannot  reasonably  doubt  what  I  have 
an  invincible  repugnance  to  believe.'* 

<«  Would  to  heaven  it  could  be  doubt- 
ed,'* said  the  baronet.  "  "With  you  I 
would  fly  to  the  remotest  quarter  of  the 
globe,  to  bring  the  atrocious  homicide 
to  justice." 

He  was  expressing  his  gratitude  to  Sir 
James,  when  Mr.  Hanson,  bursting  into 
the  room,  ran  up  to  him  and  embraced 
him.  Tears  stood  in  his  eyes,  and  this 
mark  of  sensibility  made  the  friendly 
citizen  appear  more  than  ever  amiable  to 
the  disconsolate  Henry.  Had  he  known 
the  ideas  which  had  recently  passed,  or 
were  at  that  moment  passing  through 
the  Deputy's  mind,  he  would  have  been 
less  affected  by  this  symptom  of  ten- 
derness. 

On  learning  what  had  taken  place  in  the 
family  of  Mr.  Burleigh,  which  Mr.  Han- 


CALTHORPE.  S51 

son  did,  the  minute  he  reached  home,  lie 
prepared  for  a  visit  of  condolence  on  the 
following  morning.  On  the  way,  Mr. 
Hanson  thought  it  but  prudent  to  pre- 
pare a  little  of  his  Common-council  elo- 
quence for  the  occasion.  But  when  he 
arrived  at  Richmond,  and  learned  that 
Mr.  Burleigh  had  been  interred  in  the 
cross-roads,  and  moreover,  that  the  ver- 
dict of  the  jury  had  stripped  those  who 
survived  him,  of  all  the  property  acquired 
by  the  successful  exercise  of  his  talents, 
the  features  of  the  case  appeared  so 
essentially  different  from  any  thing  he 
had  previously  contemplated,  that  it 
became  in  his  mind  a  serious  question, 
whether  he  should  not,  on  the  instant, 
retrace  his  steps.  Reduced  to  poverty, 
Henry  appeared  no  longer  a  proper  match 
for  Alexandrina,  and  he  was  therefore  in- 
clinedto  think  his  best  course  would  be  to 
return,  and  content  himself  with  sending 
a  letter  to  express  his  sorrow,  and  at  the 
same  time,  to  hint  that  he  himself  had 
M  6 


252  CALTHORPE. 

just  sustained  some  very  heavy  losses,  in 
order  that  the  Burleighs  might  not  be 
led  to  apply  to  him  for  any  assistance, 
of  which  they  might  stand  in  need. 
He  was  about  to  act  on  these  pru- 
dential considerations,  when,  having 
arrived  at  Mr.  Burleigh's  former  house, 
it  struck  him,  that  the  person  left  in 
charge  of  it  since  the  absence  of  the 
family,  could  know  nothing  of  him,  and 
might  afford  him  some  curious,  if  not 
important  information,  and  he  deter- 
mined on  knocking  and  holding  a  con- 
ference with  him,  intending  when  this 
should  be  over,  to  commence  his  retreat. 
But  his  feelings  were  soon  affected  in 
a  different  way.  His  feelings  were  in- 
separable from  pounds,  shillings,  and 
pence,  debtor  and  creditor  accounts,  and 
balances  for  and  against.  "  What  are 
other  peoples'  troubles  to  me  ?"  was  ever- 
more the  exclamation  of  Mr.  Hanson, 
when  alone  with  his  family,  if  any  case 
of  peculiar  distress  happened  to  be  men- 


CALTHORPE*  S5S 

tioned.  But  curiosity  now  led  him  to 
enquire  into  all  the  particulars  of  the  late 
event.  The  tidings  that  the  family  had 
fallen  into  distress,  made  little  impression 
an  him ;  but  they  suggested  the  expedi- 
ency of  promptly  retiring,  when  the  men- 
tion made  of  the  names  of  Sir  James 
Denville,  and  Lord  Burleigh,  at  once 
produced  a  revolution  in  his  mind.  He 
learnt  that  the  former  was  at  that  mo- 
ment with  Mrs.  Burleigh,  and  was  told, 
that  the  latter  was  hourly  expected. 
That  they  were  not  deserted  by  their 
great  connections,  seemed  to  him  a  suf- 
ficient excuse  for  not  deserting  them. 
It  now  occurred  to  him,  that  through 
the  influence  and  means  of  the  two 
personages  just  mentioned,  the  blow 
which  went  to  annihilate  the  fortune  of 
the  sufferers,  might  be  averted,  and 
Henry,  instead  of  being  a  poor,  friendless 
orphan,  would,  perhaps,  be  even  while 
yet  a  minor,  all  he  had  calculated  on 
seeing  him   at  an    advanced  period  of 


^54  CALTHORPE. 

life.  These  considerations  operated  so 
powerfully  on  his  mind,  that  his  friend- 
ship for  the  youth  instantly  returned, 
and  with  tears  in  his  eyes  he  hastened 
to  the  retreat  of  Mrs.  Burleigh,  prepared 
for  a  grand  theatrical  display,  which  it 
has  been  seen  commenced  with  a  most 
affectionate  embrace. 

^'  My  dear,  dear,  Henry,'^he  exclaimed 
"  could  I  have  thought,"  (and  here  he 
sobbed,)  *'  could  it  enter  into  the  imagin- 
ation of  mortal  man,  when  we  last 
parted,  that  we  should  so  soon  meet, 
and  under  such  heart-rending  circum- 
stances ?  Good  heavens  !"  (here  he  looked 
very  disconsolate,)  "  Can  it  be  possible 
that  my  dear,  honoured  friend  is  no  more  ? 
Can  the  glorious,  ennobling  spirit,  which 
so  recently  animated  his  mortal  frame 
have  departed?  and  for  ever  !  But  no  ; 
he  lives  above  the  sky ;  and,  superior  to 
all  mortal  cares,  only  recognises  anxiety 
when  bestowing  a  glance  of  pity  on  those 
he   loved,   and  who   are  unhappily  left 


CALTHORPE.  Q55 

behind  in  this  vale  of  tears !"  (Here  he 
paused,  and  almost  expected  to  be  cheered 
with  the  applauding  shout  of  "  Hear, 
hear,  hear/')  "  It  is  most  calamitous 
that  so  good  a  man  should  thus  sud- 
denly be  torn  from  life  —  from  all  those 
dear  and  tender  connections  that  make  — 
that  make  —  all  those  dear  and  tender 
connections  that  make  — " 

The  Deputy  laboured,  but  in  vain,  to 
recall  the  affectingmorceau,  which,  in  the 
speech  that  he  had  written  for  the  oc- 
casion, concluded  this  sentence.  Finding 
memory  obstinate  in  retaining  what  he 
had  confided  to  her  in  the  expectation 
that  it  would  be  honourably  brought  forth 
when  wanted,  he  thought  in  the  absence 
of  words,  emotion  was  their  best  substi- 
tute, and  accordingly  beating  his  head 
and  breast :  he  appeared  wholly  unable 
to  go  on  from  excess  of  feeling.  After 
a  few  moments  he  proceeded  to  vent  a 
few^  short  sentences,  such  as  "  dear  Bur- 
leigh !"— "  kind  Burleigh !''— «  the  best 


S56  CALTHORPE. 

creature  in  the  world ! '' — "  to  lose  such 
a  friend,  in  such  a  way,  is  not  to  be 
borne;"  and  then  his  distress  became 
so  great,  that  he  had  some  thoughts  of 
tearing  his  hair,  and  his  hands  were  car- 
ried to  the  upper  part  of  his  person, 
seemingly  for  that  purpose,  but  timely 
reflection  suggested  that  it  could  avail 
nothing  to  sacrifice  an  excellent  wig  to 
the  manes  of  Mr.  Burleigh ;  and  he  pru- 
dently suffered  his  hands  to  descend  to 
his  bosom,  without  committing  any  out- 
rage by  the  way. 

Henry  felt  too  much  real  grief  him- 
self, to  suspect  for  a  moment  that  af- 
fliction could  be  feigned  by  any  one;  and 
the  Deputy's  exhibition  on  him  had  all 
the  eflTect  Mr.  Hanson  could  desire. 
That  person  now  found  leisure  to  intro- 
duce himself  to  Sir  James  Denville, 
This  it  had  just  then  occurred  to  him 
was  necessary,  as  Mr.  Burleigh  was  too 
much  absorbed  by  the  melancholy  event 
which  had  led  to  this  interview,  to  pay  due 


CALTHORPE.  257 

attention  to  the  established  usages  of 
poUte  society.  Sir  James  received  the 
greetings  of  the  citizen  with  much  con- 
descension and  civility  ;  and  the  latter, 
after  treating  the  baronet  and  Henry 
with  the  usual  string  of  pious  consol- 
atory sentences,  which  supply  the  place 
of  an  epilogue  to  the  awful  dramas  of  real 
life,  retired  well  satisfied  with  his  own 
performance,  and  the  reception  i  t  ad 
met  with  from  an  indulgent  though  not 
very  discriminating  audience,  and  pro- 
mising speedily  to  return,  in  the  hope 
of  finding  the  ladies  a  little  more  com- 
posed. It  is  but  justice  to  say,  that  be- 
fore he  took  his  leave,  he  repeatedly 
declared  himself  ready  and  anxious  to 
do  any,  and  every  thing,  that  might  lay 
in  his  power  to  serve  the  family  of  his 
deceased  friend.  When  Sir  James  Den- 
ville  announced  that  he  had  had  it 
from  good  authority,  that  Lord  Burleigh 
intended  to  provide  for  Henry,  Mr.  Han- 
son  mingled   with  his    congratulations, 


258  CALTHORPE. 

many  expressions  of  regret;  declaring, 
at  the  same  time,  that  had  his  Lordship's 
resolution  been  different,  he  should  have 
felt  happy  to  take  that  task  upon  him- 
self, in  order  to  mark  the  reverence 
which  he  must  ever  cherish  for  the  name, 
the  memory,  and  every  thing  connected 
with  his  dear,  departed,  inestimable 
friend,  Mr.  Burleigh. 


CALTHORPE.  259 


CHAP.  XIV. 


"  Pride  is  seldom  delicate;  it  will  please  itself  with  very 
mean  advantages :  and  envy  feels  not  its  own  happiness, 
but  when  it  may  be  compared  with  the  misery  of  others." 

Dr.  Johnson. 


Those  meritorious  individuals  who  de- 
vote their  Uves  to  the  amusement  of  the 
pubHc,  the  managers  of  our  national 
theatres,  in  their  efforts  to  divert  and 
edify  the  town,  commonly  provide  that 
a  deep  tragedy  shall  be  succeeded  by  a 
broad  farce.  Whether  this  arises  merely 
from  a  wish  to  throw  variety  into  their 
evening's  bill  of  fare,  or  whether  it  pro- 
ceeds from  a  conviction  in  the  minds  of 
those  profound  observers  of  nature,  that 
in  the  great  world  such  is  invariably 
the  case,  and  that,  therefore,  such  an 
arrangement  is  essential  to  sustain  the 


260  CALTHORPE. 

character  of  the  philosophers  who  preside 
over  the  mimic  scene,  we  shall  not  now 
stop  to  enquire.  It  is  enough  for  us  to 
state  the  fact,  that  such  transitions,  from 
the  mournful  to  the  merry,  are  every-day 
occurrences ;  and  now,  the  tragedy  being 
over,  in  humble  imitation  of  them,  we 
know  of  no  just  impediment  in  the  way 
of  our  proceeding  with  the  farce. 

The  sudden  dea^h  of  an  individual 
gives  a  shock  to  all  who  are  in  any  way 
connected  with  him,  and  in  the  first 
days  of  surprise,  acute  feeling,  warm 
sympathy,  and  real  benevolence,  rally 
round  his  coffin  ;  and  the  most  soothing 
promises  of  future  kindness  are  liberally 
bestowed,  to  raise  the  spirits  of  the  desti- 
tute, and  the  disconsolate.  But  the 
ghastly,  lifeless  object  of  their  sorrow 
vanishes  in  a  few  days.  The  excited 
feelings  subside  into  their  former  sluggish 
tranquillity;  cold  calculation  succeeds 
to  feverish  sensibility  j  anxiety  to  relieve 
resolves  itself  into  barren  commiseration  j 


CALTHORPE.  Q6l 

and  promises,  made  in  the  heat  of  the 
moment,  when  the  scene  of  calamity 
first  opened  on  the  view,  are  too  often 
remembered  no  more,  or  remembered 
but  as  innocent  expedients  to  cheer  the 
sufferer,  which,  having  answered  the  pur- 
pose for  which  they  were  fashioned,  are 
not  to  be  fulfilled  but  at  some  very  re- 
mote period ;  and  then  only  if  it  should 
happen  to  be  perfectly  convenient. 

When  the  death  of  Mr.  Burleigh  was 
first  known,  the  tidings  spread  universal 
horror ;  and  the  verdict  of  the  jury  was 
with  some  the  subject  of  reprobation ; 
with  all  the  theme  of  regret.  The  most 
lively  interest  was  excited  for  the  un- 
fortunate situation  of  the  surviving  mem- 
bers of  his  family  ;  and  the  only  topic  of 
consolation  that  could  be  started,  was 
the  reflection,  that  they  were  not  witliout 
powerful  friends,  and  opulent  relations. 
Those  nearly  connected  with  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh, were  much  touched  by  the  deplor- 
able event;  and  such  was  the  effect  of 


^62  CALTHORPE. 

it  on  Lord  Burleigh,  that,  for  once,  his 
icy  heart  was  surprised  into  a  glow  of 
generous  compassion,  and  he  did  not 
scruple  to  declare,  "  that  he  should  ever 
regard  the  family  of  his  brother  as  his 
own  ;"  and  he  especially  announced  it 
to  be  his  determination,  as  Sir  James 
Denville  had  correctly  informed  Mr. 
Hanson,  to  provide  for  Henry  in  a 
manner  becoming  his  birth  and  recent 
expectations. 

But  when  the  event  became  more 
familiar  to  the  mind  of  his  Lordship, 
he  soon  perceived  that  to  consider  the 
family  of  his  brother  as  his  own,  and  to 
provide  for  them,  would  bring  on  him  an 
expense  that  would  make  such  a  mark  of 
respect  for  the  deceased  exceedingly  in- 
convenient. He  was  therefore  careful 
not  to  repeat  the  declaration ;  and  it 
forcibly  struck  him,  that  if  some  arrange- 
ment could  be  made  which  would  enable 
the  widow  to  provide  for  herself  and  her 


CALTHORPE.  ^68 

children,  the  economy  of  the  plan  would 
atone  for  some  little  sacrifice  of  dignity. 

With  these  feelings,  through  his  inter- 
ference, though  exercised  in  an  under- 
handed way,  a  meeting  was  called  of 
those  who  were  deemed  the  friends  of 
the  late  Mr.  Burleigh,  about  a  week 
after  his  interment,  for  the  purpose  of 
considering  what  could  be  done  for  the 
family.  The  parties  were  invited  to  as- 
semble at  the  little  cottage  to  which 
Mrs.  Burleigh  had  retired,  for  the  con- 
venience of  referring  to  her,  if  this 
should  seem  necessary,  in  order  to  ascer- 
tain what  were  her  future  views ;  what 
she  might  be  disposed  to  attempt,  and 
in  what  it  was  most  probable  that  she 
would  succeed. 

They  came  at  the  time  appointed,  and 
proceeded  to  business  with  little  delay. 
Lord  Burleigh  was  still  confined  by  in- 
disposition, but  his  Lady  did  not  fail  to 
attend.  She  had  a  delicate  part  to  act. 
Condescension  and  affability  were  to  be 


264  CALTHORFE. 

displayed,  in  order  to  induce  others  to 
make  an  effort  which  she  and  her  worthy- 
Lord  felt  ought  to  be  made  by  them- 
selves. But  it  was  necessary  to  guard 
against  inviting  to  any  unseemly  fami- 
liarity, the  distant  relations  or  slight  ac- 
quaintances who  assisted  on  the  occasion. 
It  was  necessary  to  plead  inability  to 
succour  the  sufferers ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  the  interests  of  vanity,  the  pride 
of  rank,  and  the  pomp  of  affluence,  were 
not  to  be  compromised. 

Some  very  solemn  remarks  on  the 
melancholy  event  which  had  called  them 
together  opened  the  proceedings. 

"  It  was  painful,  at  all  times,  to  lose 
friends  by  the  relentless  stroke  of  death, 
but  doubly  shocking  when  they  perished 
by  violent  means  —  and  still  more  cala- 
mitous when  they  rashly  raised  their 
hands  against  themselves." — "  The  event 
deplored  was  so  much  the  more  terrible 
as  none  of  them  could  be,  in  the  slightest 
degree,  prepared  for  it."  —  "  The  news 
16 


CALTHORPE.  Q65 

had  made  some  of  them  ill."  — "  Mr. 
Burleigh  was  almost  the  last  man  that 
they  should  have  expected  to  commit 
suicide  ;"  and  "  Who  could  have  thought 
it  ?"  with  other  observations  and  reflec- 
tions equally  appropriate  and  original, 
went  round  the  apartment  with  universal 
approbation,  each  adopting  the  exclam- 
ation of  the  person  above  him,  and 
echoing  it  to  the  next,  that  it  might  be 
forwarded  through  the  circle. 

Lady  Burleigh  expressed  herself  happy 
to  meet  with  so  many  kind  friends,  as- 
sembled to  pay  respect  to  the  memory 
of  her  departed  brother. 

**  He  was  an  excellent  man'* — "  Not- 
withstanding the  fatal  act  which  had  ter- 
minated his  life,  they  were  desirous  of 
showing  their  regard  to  his  memory*'  — 
"  They  had  never  respected  any  man 
so  much  in  all  their  lives,"  —  were  the 
answers  which  were  immediately  for- 
warded to  her  Ladyship. 

VOL.  I.  N 


266  CALTHORPE. 

She  then  went  on  to  inform  them  of 
the  lamentable  situation  in  which  the 
widow  and  family  of  Mr.  Burleigh  were 
left. 

All  present  instantly  resolved,  that  "  it 
was  a  sad  thing." 

Her  Ladyship  proceeded  to  lament 
the  inability  of  Lord  Burleigh  to  place 
them  in  that  situation,  which  he  could 
wish  them  to  occupy.  He  had  deter- 
mined on  patronising  the  son,  so  that, 
in  time,  he  would  be  able  to  provide  for 
his  mother  and  sister,  and  beyond  that 
his  Lordship  could  not  go  at  present.  It 
was  his  anxious  wish  to  do  every  thing 
in  his  power,  but  the  enormous  expense 
he  had  been  put  to  by  the  late  election 
of  his  eldest  son,  the  sums  laid  out  in 
enclosing  Skinflint  Common,  and  the 
charge  for  erecting  a  new  country-house, 
w^hich  was  about  to  be  begun,  and  which, 
according  to  the  lowest  estimate,  would 
amount  to  four  thousand  pounds,  were, 
at  present,  so  severely  felt,  that  she  had 


CALTHORPE.  267 

almost  determined  not  to  go  to  Bath  this 
season,  purely  from  motives  of  economy. 

This  sensible  speech  was  generally 
adopted  as  a  model.  One  pressed  on 
the  meeting  the  consideration  of  the  vast 
expense  thrown  upon  him  by  his  two 
sons  at  college,  as,  (how  others  managed 
he  knew  not,)  he  found  that  they  would 
not  prosecute  their  studies  if  they  were 
not  indulged  with  their  ponies  and  sail- 
ing-boats. A  second  had  just  lost  ten 
thousand  pounds  by  the  failure  of  Dub- 
up's  banking-house ;  and  a  third  was 
engaged  in  a  Chancery  suit,  to  carry  on 
which,  in  a  proper  manner,  demanded, 
annually,  nearly  the  half  of  his  income. 

"  To  be  sure,"  her  Ladyship  resumed, 
"  the  pressure  of  which  I  have  spoken 
is  but  temporary,  and  the  improve- 
ments now  in  progress  will  ultimately  be 
highly  beneficial  to  the  family.  But  if 
they  do  produce  an  additional  four  or 
Hve  thousand  pounds  per  annum  some 
years  hence,  that  will  avail  nothing  at 

N    ^ 


268  CALTHORPE. 

present,  and  it  is  necessary  that  some- 
thing should  be  done  now." 

She  was  imitated  as  before. 

*'  To  be  sure,  the  boys  would  not  be 
always  at  college.  —  Dubup  might  go  on 
again,  and  the  Chancery  suit  would,  in 
all  probability,  be  gained,  —  but  then 
something  must  be  done  now." 

These  were,  in  substance,  the  repHes 
of  the  preceding  speakers.  All  seemed 
agreed  that  something  must  immediately 
be  done. 

Lady  Burleigh  repeated,  "  that  it  was 
impossible  for  his  Lordship  to  offer  any 
pecuniary  advance  ;  and,  indeed,  none 
could  be  expected  from  him." 

This  speech  was  instantly  parodied  as 
the  others  had  been,  and  it  was  soon 
unanimously  carried,  that  no  pecuniary 
aid  could  be  offered,  and  that  none  ought 
to  be  expected,  from  any  of  them. 

«  But  there  are  ways  of  making 
money,"  one  of  the  company  remarked. 

"  And  respectable  ways,  too,"  added 


CALTHORPE.  269 

Lady  Burleigh,  "  and  I  should  hope 
Mrs.  Burleigh  will  not  be  above  attend- 
ing to  any  hint  that  may  be  thrown  out, 
on  this  subject,  for  her  advantage." 

"  Many  people,"  said  Mr.  Broadbent, 
(a  cousin  of  Mr.  Burleigh's,  who  had 
been  articled  to  an  attorney,  and  sub- 
sequently brought  into  extensive  practice 
by  the  deceased,)  "  have  been  left  worse 
than  Mrs.  Burleigh,  who,  by  their  own 
exertions,  have  realised  fortunes,  and 
that  too  in  a  very  few  years.  I  think 
she  might  convert  this  cottage  and  her 
little  annuity  into  ready  money,  and  thus 
possess  herself  of  a  capital,  which  would 
enable  her  to  turn  herself  in  a  variety  of 
ways." 

This  was  thought  an  admirable  sug- 
gestion, and  several  of  the  auditory 
undertook  to  show  how  it  might  be 
acted  upon. 

**  She  might  start  in  the  millinery  way, 
at  the  west  end  of  the  town." 

"  Or   she  might  open  a  shop,   in   a 
N  3 


270  CALTHORPE. 

large  way,  for  the  sale  of  perfumery  and 
small  trinkets.'* — 

"  Or  a  circulating  library." 

"  Or,"  said  her  Ladyship,  "  she  could 
take  a  respectable  boarding-house  at 
Brighton,  for  the  exclusive  accommoda- 
tion of  the  nobility  and  people  of  fashion, 
who  go  down  when  the  Prince  is  at  the 
Pavilion." 

"  Any  of  these,"  cousin  Broadbent 
remarked,  "  would  be  very  respectable." 

"  Very  respectable,"  answered  the 
whole  company,  in  excellent  voice,  and 
in  full  chorus. 

"  For,"  he  continued,  "  in  times  like 
these,  people  must  not  be  too  nice." 

"  But  I  am  afraid,"  cried  her  Lady- 
ship, "  those  we  wish  to  serve  are  apt  to 
hold  their  heads  a  little  too  high.  At 
least,  they  did  ;  I  do  not  mean  to  say 
that  no  change  has  taken  place  since 
Mr.  Burleigh's  death." 

"  I  am  inclined,"  said  Mr.  Broadbent, 
^*  to  think  your  Ladyship's  opinion  is  but 


CALTHORPE.  271 

too  well  founded.  Sir  James  Denville, 
1  understand,  offered  for  the  daughter, 
but  she  scornfully  rejected  him,  and  said 
she  could  not  think  of  marrying  any  one 
below  the  rank  of  a  Marquis. 

*«  Yes;  and  though  the  father,  poor 
man,  did  all  in  his  power  to  incline  her 
to  favour  the  suit  of  his  friend.  Sir  James, 
she  most  pertinaciously  adhered  to  her 
original  resolution." 

"  So  I  have  heard." 

**  Now,"  continued  her  Ladyship,  **  if 
people  will  stand  in  their  own  light,  it  is 
not  in  the  power  of  their  friends  to  pre- 
vent it.  I  am  sure  I  would  be  the  last 
person  in  the  world  to  say  one  word 
against  either  mother  or  daughter,  but  I 
cannot  help  feeling  that  such  conduct, 
to  say  the  least  of  it,  was  very  injudi- 
cious on  the  part  of  Harriet ;  and  Mrs. 
Burleigh,  I  think,  was  quite  as  bad,  to 
encourage  her  in  it." 

**  That  is  my  opinion,"  Mr.  Broadbent 
said. 

N  4 


Tift  CALTHORPE. 

«*  And  mine." 

*«  And  mine,"  called  out  several  other 
friends  of  the  family, 

"  Then  there's  the  son.  Lord  Bur- 
leigh and  myself  were  always  grieved 
that  poor  Mr.  Burleigh  should  keep  him 
at  home,  doing  nothing,  and  learning  no- 
thing, that  was  likely  to  enable  him  to 
make  a  figure  in  the  world :  bu^  it  was 
not  for  us  to  interfere.  Henry  may  be  a 
very  well-disposed  youth,  but  I  think 
young  men  seldom  get  much  good  at 
home." 

"  I  hope  we  shall  not  have  a  proof  of 
it  here,"  cried  Mr.  Broadbent ;  "  but  I 
think  his  unfeeling  and  indecorous  con- 
duct on  the  night  of  his  father's  burial,  was 
not  exactly  what  we  might  have  expected 
from  the  son  of  our  excellent  friend." 

"  I  heard  he  was  there  when  the  body 
was  carried  to  the  cross-roads,  but  was 
told  that  it  was  purely  accidental,  and  that 
he  did  not  know  the  person  to  be  buried 
was  his  own  father,"  said  Lady  Burleigh. 


CALTHORPE.  273 

"  Then  that  makes  bad  worse — don't 
let  me  wrong  him,  I  mean,  your  Lady- 
ship will  understand,  that  it  makes  bad 
worse  if  he  has  told  such  a  falsehood. 
He  must  have  known  who  it  was,  for  as 
he  was  pressing  forward,  pushing  every 
body  out  of  his  way,  a  person,  whom  I 
could  name,  went  up  to  him  and  said, 
*  I  think,  Mr.  Burleigh,  you  might  have 
kept  away ;'  to  which  he  replied,  wdth 
an  oath,  that  he  would  go  where  he 
pleased,  and  he  thought  it  was  devilish 
hard  if  he  might  not  see  his  own  father 
popped  under  the  sod/' 

"  That,"  her  Ladyship  remarked,  "  is 
just  what  I  should  have  apprehended 
from  the  way  in  which  he  has  been 
brought  up  :  but  I  am  very  sorry  to 
hear  it." 

All  the  other  friends  of  the  family  de- 
clared,  that  "  they  were  also  very  sorry 
for  it." 

And  now,  having  sufficiently  calum- 
N  5 


274  CALTHORPE. 

niated  the  living  and  the  dead ;  having 
declared  that  they  would  contribute  no- 
thing from  tlieir  own  means  to  relieve 
those  whom  they  professed  themselves 
anxious  to  assist ;  but  having  benevo- 
lently determined  how  a  property,  with 
which  they  had  no  concern,  should  be 
disposed  of,  they  waited  on  Mrs.  Bur- 
leigh, to  acquaint  her  with  the  result  of 
their  deliberations.  Grief,  for  that  loss 
which  she  knew  to  be  irreparable,  made 
her  insensible  to  all  other  mortifications, 
and  precluded  the  possibility  of  her  feel- 
ing disappointment  on  this  occasion.  She 
heard  them  with  patience,  and  briefly  re- 
plied to  them,  that  the  various  resources 
which  they  had  pointed  out  as  the  means 
of  improving  her  circumstances,  were 
such,  that  she  could  not  avail  herself  of 
them  ;  as,  from  her  total  ignorance  of 
business,  it  was  impossible  to  succeed  ; 
and  that  to  make  the  attempt  would  only 
be  to  sacrifice  the  humble  means  whicii 


CALTHORPE.  275 

were  still  hers.  To  this  it  was  replied, 
by  the  friends  of  the  family,  "  that  many 
in  similar  circumstances  had  made  the 
experiment  with  success  ;  and  why  should 
not  she  do  it  as  well  as  another  ?  That 
there  might  be  some  risk  was  true ;  but 
what  could  be  done  without  risk  ?  Some- 
thing must  be  tried,  and  she  must  exert 
herself,  for  she  could  not  expect  always 
to  find  friends  ready  to  interest  them- 
selves in  her  welfare  as  they  }iad 
done." 

Weak,  friendless,  and  bowed  down  to 
the  earth  beneath  intolerable  woe,  Mrs. 
Burleigh  felt  the  reproaches  thus  insinu- 
ated, but  replied  not.  Silence,  inter- 
rupted by  sighs,  which  struggled  to 
escape  from  the  sad  society  of  a  broken 
heart,  did  not  satisfy  her  advisers ;  and 
they  left  her  with  hollow  professions  of 
compassion,  but  really  indignant  at  the 
little  respect  paid  to  their  recommend- 
ation, and  freely  condemning  her  to  each 
N  6 


276  CALTHORPE. 

other,  as  a  proud,  foolish,  and  very  ob, 
stinate  woman,  who  seemed  perversely 
resolved  to  oppose  all  the  benevolent  en- 
deavours of  her  best  friends,  to  rescue  her 
from  distress. 


CALTHOEPE.  277 


CHAP.  XV. 


*'  Oh  !  for  patience  ! 
And  yet  methinks  that  patience  is  a  cheat. 
That  robs  us  of  our  will  and  its  effects. 
Lulls  firm  resolves  to  rest,  and  steals  away 
The  precious  jewel  opportunity." 

Roche, 


Sir  James  Denville  had  been  suddenly 
called  away,  when  the  friends  of  the  late 
Mr.  Burleigh  were  about  to  assemble,  on 
business  that  would  admit  of  no  delay. 
But  he  took  care  to  make  it  known,  that 
he  would  concur  with  them  in  any  plan 
that  might  be  devised  for  the  relief  of 
the  family;  and  begged  that  he  might 
be  considered  as  intending  to  be  a  con- 
tributor on  the  largest  scale.  ^Vhen  he 
learnt  the  character  of  the  proceedings 
which  were  described  in  the  last  chapter, 


278  CALTHORPE. 

he  expressed  warm  indignation  at  the 
conduct  of  the  whole  of  the  persons  pre- 
sent. Instead  of  repairing  in  some  de- 
gree the  ruin  caused  by  the  death  of  Mr. 
Burleigh,  they  had,  in  his  opinion,  only 
added  insult  to  misery,  in  recommending 
the  lowly  occupations  they  had  pressed 
Qu  the  consideration  of  the  widow. 
The  milliner's  shop,  the  circulating  li- 
brary, and  the  Brighton  boarding-house, 
he  rejected  as  contemptible  expedients ; 
and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  assert,  that 
those  who  h^d  recommended  them  to 
Mrs.  Burleigh  as  respectable,  would  not 
have  degraded  themselves  more,  by  pro- 
posing that  she  should  seek  a  livelihood 
from  a  mangle,  or  a  milk-paiL 

He,  however,  counselled  them  to  hope 
for  better  things  ;  and  had  no  doubt  that 
it  would  be  their  own  fault  if  a  brighter 
day  did  not  soon  open  upon  them  ;  and 
while  holding  this  language,  his  most  ex- 
pressive  glance  fell  on  Harriet.  Though 
he  felt  that  this  was  no  time  for  pleading 
7 


CALTHORPE.  279 

the  passion  he  had  before  avowed,  the 
tender  anxiety  of  his  manner  proved  that 
it  still  survived;  and  perhaps  the  fine 
features-  of  Miss  Burleigh,  softened  by 
the  profound  melancholy  in  which  they 
were  now  clothed,  had  appeared  to  a 
common  observer,  as  they  certainly  did 
to  the  Baronet,  more  irresistible  than 
when  irradiated  by  the  smiles  which  had 
till  now  been  the  appropriate  decorations 
of  her  countenance.  It  is  delightful  to 
contemplate  innocence  and  cheerfulness 
enthroned  on  a  beautiful  face,  but  the 
union  of  loveliness  and  sorrow  is  infinitely 
more  touching  ;  and  never  had  Sir  James 
gazed  with  such  fervent  admiration  on 
the  brightness  of  those  eyes  as  now, 
when  their  softened  rays  were  seen 
shinhig  through  tears. 

In  the  course  of  that  day,  Henry  re- 
ceived a  formal  summons  to  attend  Lord 
Burleigh  on  the  next  morning,  at  his 
seat  near  Guildford.  In  the  present  si- 
tuation of  the  family,  it  appeared  that  his 


280  CALTHORPE. 

Lordship  was  the  only  person  who  could 
essentially  serve  them.  Mr.  Burleigh  had 
not  been  very  intimate  with  Lord  Bur- 
leigh since  he  had  succeeded  to  the  title 
and  estates  which  he  now  enjoyed,  and 
which  had  formerly  belonged  to  rather 
a  distant  relation.  That  they  had  not 
been  better  acquainted,  was  perhaps  not 
the  fault  of  his  Lordship.  He  frequently 
pressed  his  brother  to  appear  among  his 
guests  ;  but  the  invitation  was  always  ex- 
tended to  Mrs.  Burleigh  with  an  air  of  con- 
cession, which  her  husband  was  too  affec- 
tionate to  approve,  and  too  proud  to  ac- 
cept. When  he  did  go  to  Guildford,  it 
was  generally  alone,  and  most  frequently 
about  the  time  at  which  he  conceived 
his  Lordship  would  have  least  company. 
He  however  almost  always  found  more 
than  he  could  enjoy;  and  so  much  pa- 
rade and  heartless  splendour,  that  he 
never  failed  to  grow  impatient  for  the 
moment  of  taking  leave.  On  such  occa- 
sions, the  conduct  of  his  brother,  though 


CALTHORPE.  281 

externally  kind,  was  not  very  agreeable 
to  a  man  of  plain  and  simple  habits.  The 
history  of  entertainments  which  he  had 
given,  embracing  the  most  minute  de- 
scriptions that  ostentation  could  supply, 
afforded  him  little  pleasure  ;  the  plans  of 
those  that  were  preparing,  were  not  a  whit 
more  entertaining.  The  contempt,  or 
hatred,  of  which  almost  all  who  had  been, 
or  who  were  to  be,  invited  to  them  were 
the  object,  raised  a  strong  sentiment  of 
disapprobation  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh, which  he  took  no  pains  to  conceal ; 
and  when  his  Lordship  proceeded,  as  he 
invariably  did,  after  giving  his  arrogance 
full  scope,  to  indulge  in  the  most  dolorous 
lamentation  over  expenses  which  were 
thus  unnecessarily  incurred,  the  weary 
listener  turned  from  the  recital  with  dis- 
gust, anxious  to  v/ithdraw  himself  from 
conduct  so  magnificently  mean. 

To  Henry  it  appeared  desirable  to 
reconcile  his  mind  to  the  humility  of  his 
present  lot.     The  gay  hopes  which  he 


282  CALTHORPE. 

had  once  cherished  were  no  more. 
These  he  resigned  without  a  murmur ; 
and  wishing  and  expecting  nothing,  but 
what  active  industry  might  procure  for 
him,  he  regretted  that  the  favourable 
disposition  of  Lord  Burleigh  should 
interpose,  to  prevent  him  from  returning 
to  his  city  friends.  With  them,  he  had 
reason  to  believe  that  his  hours  would 
be  usefully  and  agreeably  occupied  ;  and 
an  independent  station  in  life,  however 
humble,  had  more  charms  for  him,  than 
all  the  luxury  and  indolent  ease,  which 
he  could  enjoy  under  the  roof  of  the  most 
munificent  of  patrons. 

These  feelings  were  not  dissipated  by 
the  reception  he  met  with  on  his  arrival 
at  Guildford.  In  his  first  interview  with 
his  uncle,  the  latter  was  more  careful  to 
preserve  his  dignity,  than  to  mark  his 
condescension  or  his  affection.  One  of 
the  first  things  he  told  Henry,  was,  that 
when  he  had  occasion  to  mention  him. 


CALTHORPE.  Q8S 

he  was  to  talk  of  Lord  Burleigh,  and  not 
of  his  uncle. 

He  replied,  — 

**  I  hope,  my  Lord,  1  shall  always  feel 
proper  deference  for  your  Lordship's 
rank,  and  evince  that  I  am  not  forgetful 
of  my  own  humble  station." 

"  I  trust  you  will,  Sir.  I  have  every 
wish  to  forward  you,  and  intend  shortly 
speaking  to  the  minister  about  you.  On 
any  particular  occasion,  when  I  have 
persons  of  rank  here,  to  whom  it  may 
not  be  convenient  for  you  to  be  intro- 
duced, you  will  of  course  have  no  objec- 
tion to  dine  alone." 

Henry  bowed  assent. 

"  You  are  aware  that  I  and  your  father 
often  differed  about  politics.  Poor  man, 
he  stood  in  his  own  light.  Had  he  been 
ruled  by  me,  I  have  no  doubt  that  he 
would  have  been  Attorney  General. 
But  it  is  useless  to  talk  of  that  now, 
though  1  would   impress    upon   you  the 


284  CALTHORPE. 

necessity  of  abstaining  from  taking  up 
opinions  like  his.  They  did  nothing  for 
him  while  he  lived,  and  you  see  what  they 
brought  him  to  at  last.'* 

Tears  bursting  from  his  eyes  at  the 
recollection  of  the  melancholy  death  of 
his  father,  which  the  foregoing  speech 
revived,  with  all  its  original  horrors,  pre- 
cluded any  attempt  at  speech  by  Henry. 
His  Lordship  proceeded. 

"  I  do  not  blame  your  sorrow,  but  I 
flatter  myself  that  you  will  profit  by  what 
I  have  said,  and  learn  to  think  more  cor- 
rectly on  politics." 

"  The  opinions  of  so  insignificant  a 
person  as  myself,  I  am  sure,  can  be  of 
no  importance  to  any  one,  and  what- 
ever they  may  be,  I  am  not  likely  to 
proclaim  them,  or  to  urge  them  in  a  way 
calculated  to  move  your  Lordship's  dis- 
pleasure." 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  so  much  dis- 
cretion, and  if  you  regulate  your  conduct 
by  my   advice,    you   may  rest   assured, 


CALTHORPE.  285 

that  I  shall  not  be  unmindful  of  your 
interest.** 

His  Lordship  then,  with  an  air  of 
paternal  kindness,  which  did  not  pre- 
viously attach  to  his  deportment,  re- 
marked to  Henry  on  the  great  injury 
that  a  youthful  mind  would  sustain  from 
indolence  ;  and  that  he  might  not  be  ex- 
posed to  so  dangerous  an  evil,  he  con- 
ducted him  to  a  small  apartment,  in 
which  were  two  desks,  on  one  of  which 
appeared  a  mountain  of  papers.  These, 
he  was  informed,  consisted  of  accounts 
given  in  by  the  steward,  which  his  Lord- 
ship desired  to  have  closely  investigated, 
and  a  variety  of  letters  and  documents, 
which  w^ere  to  be  fairly  transcribed,  and 
alphabetically  arranged  in  a  book  pre- 
pared for  that  purpose. 

Pleased  to  find  an  occupation  provided 
for  him,  Henry  expressed  sincere  gratitude 
for  such  kindness,  and  applied  himself  to 
his  task  with  great  alacrity.  His  Lord- 
ship was   engaged  that  day,  and  so  he 


^86  CALTHORPE. 

was  on  the  next,  and  so  he  was  on  that 
which  followed,  and,  in  short,  Henry 
found  himself  regularly  excluded  from  his 
uncle's  society.  He  experienced  a  feel- 
ing of  offended  pride  at  this,  for  which 
he  reproved  himself,  and  endeavoured  to 
teach  his  heart  that  he  who  has  lost  for- 
tune, ought  to  expect  to  be  slighted. 

The  applause  of  his  uncle  would, 
he  trusted,  reward  the  unwearied 
zeal  with  which  he  entered  upon  the 
laborious  task  prepared  for  him.  His 
assiduity  knew  no  abatement,  and  he 
made  a  rapid  progress.  But  Lord  Bur- 
leigh was  of  opinion,  that  to  praise  a 
man  who  was  in  his  employ,  would  have 
the  effect  of  making  him  think  too  highly 
of  himself,  and  consequently  incline  him 
to  slacken  those  exertions  which  impro- 
vident applause  would  proclaim  to  be  out 
of  the  common  way.  The  most  successful 
effort  never  extorted  from  him  a  more  fer- 
vent panegyric  than,  "  It  will  do,**  and, 
though  he  did  not  suppose  the  task  that 


CALTHORPE.  287 

he  had  imposed  on  his  nephew,  could, 
by  possibihty,  be  executed  in  less  than 
three  months,  he  expressed  surprise  at 
the  end  of  a  fortnight,  that  rather  more 
than  half  of  it  remained  to  be  performed. 
By  Lady  Burleigh  and  her  daughters, 
Henry  was  hardly  ever  recognised. 
Once,  indeed,  the  youngest  of  the  ladies 
spoke  to  him  with  an  air  of  affability, 
but  with  the  lofty  deportment  of  a  supe- 
rior speaking  to  a  servant ;  and  because 
he  presumed  to  reply,  with  an  air  that 
was  not  exactly  that  of  an  obsequious 
menial,  he  was  reprimanded  by  Lord 
Burleigh,  who  remarked,  *'  that  he  had 
thought  him  a  young  man  of  more  sense 
than  to  use  such  freedom  with  Lady 
Arabella;"  indignantly  adding,  "  that 
he  had  cautioned  him  against  regarding 
liimself  as  a  relation  j  but  since  he  saw 
Henry  despised  his  counsel,  it  was 
almost  time  to  give  him  up  to  his  own.*' 
It  was  the  supercilious  pride  which 
he  had  to  encounter,    and  not  the  fa- 


288  CALTHORPE. 

tigaing  labour  imposed  on  him,  un- 
thanked,  —  unpraised,  —  unrequited  as 
it  was,  that,  by  the  termination  of  the 
first  month,  made  Henry  most  heartily 
disffusted  with  his  situation.  He  how- 
ever  resolved  to  endure  all  with  patience, 
in  the  hope  that  the  ve'-y  unkindness  of 
his  relations  would  soon  operate  his 
release,  by  inclining  Lord  Burleigh  to 
make  a  decisive  effort  to  provide  for  him 
in  some  way  that  would  remove  him  to 
a  convenient  distance  from  those  whom 
he  was  thought  to  disgrace. 

When  he  saw  his  mother  and  his 
sister,  he  abstained  from  giving  any  de- 
scription of  the  treatment  he  experienced, 
that  the  indignities  offered  to  him,  might 
not  be  felt  by  them.  But  however  reso- 
lute to  conceal,  he  could  not  reconcile 
himself  to  the  irksome  situation  in  w^hich 
he  was  placed,  and  he  panted  with  im- 
patience for  any  change  that  might 
emancipate  him  from  his  present  thral- 


CALTHORPE.  .^89 

dom,  and  screen  him  from  the  scorn  of 
proud  relations. 

Six  weeks  had  elapsed  from  the  period 
at  which  he  had  the  honour  of  being 
taken  under  the  patronage  of  Lord  Bur- 
leigh, when  one  morning,  his  lordship 
sent  for  him  to  his  study,  received  him 
with  a  smile,  and  w^ith  an  elated  tone, 
informed  him  that  his  application  for  a 
situation  had  succeeded  so  far,  that,  in 
another  week,  he  had  no  doubt  of  seeing 
him  provided  for. 

Henry  expressed  himself  grateful  for 
the  kind  interference  of  his  lordship, 
hoped  he  should  not  disgrace  his  recom- 
mendation, and  requested  to  know  in  what 
situation  he  might  expect  to  be  placed. 

"  Whj,"  replied  his  lordship,  **  I  have 
not  got  you  the  office  of  the  master  of 
the  horse,  nor  the  chancellorship  of  the 
duchy  of  Lancaster,  nor  one  of  the 
tellerships  of  the  exchequer.  We  can- 
not begin  at  the  top  of  the  ladder ;  but 

VOL.  I.  o 


^90  CALTHORPE. 

I  have  got  what  will  immediately  give 
you  something." 

"  And  be  it  what  it  may,  I  shall 
gratefully  accept  it." 

"  Accept  it !  —  Why,  you  are  too 
condescending!  You  speak  as  if  you 
were  conferring  a  favour,  instead  of 
being  about  to  receive  one.  —  Accept 
it,  indeed !" 

"  Your  lordship,  I  hope,  will  have  the 
goodness  to  pardon  any  inaccuracy  of 
expression  which  may  appear  against  me  ; 
and  believe  me,  when  I  assure  you,  that 
it  was  far  from  my  wish  to  apply  the  word 
*  accept'  in  the  way  you  suppose,  or  to 
use  any  language  but  that  which  might 
best  become  humble  gratitude." 

"  Well,  it  may  be  so.  But  you  should 
be  more  circumspect  in  your  choice  of 
words.  Not  to  keep  you  in  suspense, 
then,  I  have  reason  to  think,  that,  through 
my  influence,  you  will  be  appointed  to 
the  situation  of  chief  clerk  to  the  secre- 
tary of  the  governor  of  Sierra  Leone." 


CALTHORPE.  ^91 

"  I  am  much  beholden  to  your  lord- 
ship." 

<«  The  salary  will  not  be  great  at  first ; 
but  then  there  are  several  considerations 
in  favour  of  the  appointment :  the  first 
of  these  is  the  climate,  which  is  so  bad 
that  you  may  reasonably  hope  to  see 
your  superiors  drop  off  very  fast ;  and  of 
course,  when  you  become  acquainted 
with  the  affairs  of  the  colony,  your  pros- 
pects must  rapidly  improve  as  they  die 
out  of  your  way.'' 

"  Is  the  climate,  then,  so  very  fatal  ?" 

"  To  European  constitutions  extremely 
so.  It  rains,  I  believe,  incessantly  from 
March  till  October  ;  and  1  know  the  offi- 
cers stationed  there  think  the  chance  of 
dying  so  great,  that  it  is  common  to  play 
for  each  other's  new  regimentals  or 
equipments,  in  case  of  death,  as  it  is  con- 
sidered that  one  of  two  must  certainly 
lay  down  his  life  before  such  articles  can 
be  much  the  worse  for  wear.  Thus  it 
operates  on  many ;  but  a  stout,  healthy 
o  2 


292  CALTHORPE. 

young  man  like  you,  can  live  any 
where." 

*«  At  least,  my  lord,  a  young  man  in 
my  situation  must  not  think  much  of 
risking  life,  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  an 
honourable  independence." 

"  Very  true. — Now  there  is  one  thing 
against  which  I  think  it  right  to  put  you 
on  your  guard.  I  have  already  hinted 
to  you  that  you  must  not  suffer  political 
feelings  to  raise  you  up  enemies." 

"  I  hope  your  lordship  is  satisfied  that 
I  am  not  likely  to  offend  by  controvert- 
ing the  opinions  of  others,  or  by  anxiety 
to  make  proselytes  to  mine." 

*'  But  it  is  not  enough  that  you  ab- 
stain from  controversy.  You  must  ac- 
tively support,  if  called  upon  to  do  so, 
the  principles  of  those  with  whom  you 
will  be  placed." 

^*  Even  though  they  should  appear  to 
me,  to  be  at  variance  with  truth  and  jus- 
tice?" 

"  Certainly.    It  is  not  for  you  to  judge 


m 

CALTHORPE.  ^QS 

of  the  merits  of  a  question  you  may  be 
called  upon  to  support,  any  more  than  it 
is  for  the  soldier  to  decide  on  the  wisdom 
and  policy  of  an  expedition,  in  which  he 
may  be  required  to  draw  his  sword. 
Where  you  are  going,  you  will  find  the 
principles  of  your  father  are  not  much 
approved.  You  must,  on  no  account, 
defend  them,  nor  hi?7i,  even  if  he  should 
be  personally  attacked." 

"  What  1  my  lord,  must  I  not  speak 
even  when  my  father  is  calumniated? 
Must  I  hear  him  aspersed  and  be  silent  ?" 
enquired  Henry  with  earnestness,  and 
with  some  degree  of  impatience. 

<*  When  you  address  me.  Sir,  I  would 
advise  you  to  adopt  another  tone.  These 
heroics  are  not  at  all  suited  to  my  taste, 
or  your  condition.  Sir,  you  must  not 
only  hear  your  father's  erroneous  opinions 
condemned,  but  you  yourself  must  oc- 
casionally expose  their  fallacy  and  his 
weakness." 

««  Never!" 

o  8 


294f  CALTHORPE. 

"  Howr 

"  Never,  my  lord,  will  1  so  degrade 
myself,  to  gain  the  favour  of  any  created 
being.  My  dear  revered  father  had  the 
infirmities  of  our  common  nature,  and 
might  not  be  free  from  error ;  but  it  is 
not  for  me  *  to  draw  his  frailties  from 
their  dread  abode.' " 

"  So,  Sir,  these  are  your  lofty  notions, 
are  they  ?  I  see  you  have  all  the  ridicu- 
lous pride  of  your  father.  Well,  well ; 
it  will  be  your  misfortune,  as  it  was  his. 
All  I  can  do,  is  to  guard  against  being 
disgraced  myself  by  your  misconduct. 
Since  you  reject  the  advice  I  have  given 
you  for  your  good,  you  must  take  the 
consequence.  The  appointment  will  be 
filled  up  with  another  name.^' 

*'  Your  lordship,  —  a  father  yourself, 
I  presume  to  hope,  cannot,  upon  re- 
flection, condemn  the  conduct  of  a  son 
who  will  not  blacken  the  memory  of  a 
deceased  parent,  whom  he,  whatever  the 
rest   of  the  world  shall  say  of  him,  is 


CALTHORPE.  129-5 

bound  to  revere,  while  life  and  recol- 
lection remain." 

"  Mr.  Burleigh,"  replied  his  lordship, 
with  most  statesman-like  coldness,  "  it 
is  not  with  your  conduct  as  a  son  that  I 
have  any  thing  to  do ;  but  from  a  nephew, 
and  a  dependent  on  my  bounty,  I  think 
I  might  reasonably  expect  to  hear  dif- 
ferent language,  and  to  meet  with  a  more 
submissive  and  respectful  deportment." 

"  I  beg  to  repeat,  my  Lord,  that 
nothing  was  further  from  my  intention 
than  to  offer  your  Lordship  disrespect, 
or  to  give  offence  by  my  words  qx 
manner." 

*'  Then  I  cannot  help  remarking  that 
you  have  adopted  a  very  singular  mode 
of  conducting  yourself,  where  you  have 
no  wish  to  show  disrespect  or  to  give 
offence.  I  expect  you  distinctly  to 
promise  that  you  will,  not  only  not 
defend  your  father's  politics,  but  that 
you  will  take  upon  yourself  to  expose 
and  censure  them,  if  this  should  be 
o  -i 


296  CALTHORPE. 

required.     Do  you    pledge  yourself  to 
this?" 

"  I  dare  not  deceive  your  Lordship, — 
I  never  will  give  such  a  pledge." 

*«  Then,  Sir,  I  have  only  to  refer  you 
to  the  answer  which  I  gave  on  your 
first  refusal,  to  put  you  in  possession  of 
my  determination  with  respect  to  the 
appointment. 

<*  Is  your  Lordship's  resolution  fixed  ?" 

"  Irrevocably.  Unless  you  instantly 
give  the  required  pledge,  I  shall  for- 
ward another  name  to  your  exclusion." 

**  Be  it  so,  my  Lord,  if  you  have  stated 
the  only  condition  on  which  mine  can 
be  preferred." 

''It  shall  be  so.  What!  I  suppose 
you  care  nothing  about  it,  so  you  have 
the  sweet  consolation  of  knowing  that 
you  have  faithfully  adhered  to  what 
you  are  pleased  to  call  your  principles. 
Enjoy  them,  young  man ;  but  take  my 
word  for  it,  you  will  very  soon  discover 
that  the  solid  advantages  of  a  good  situ- 


CALTHORPE.  ^97 

ation,  are  worth  something  more  than 
all  the  glory  of  that  virtuous  poverty  to 
which  you  are  about  to  consign  your- 
self. You  will  not  be  the  first  simple- 
ton who,  sacrificing  his  interest  in  this 
way  at  the  commencement  of  his  career, 
has  afterwards  brought  his  principles 
to  market  somewhat  too  late." 

**  I  shall  neither  be  the  first  nor  the 
last  my  Lord ;  for  such  a  part  I  never 
can  act." 

"  We  shall  see. — These  ideas  may  do 
very  well  at  Richmond,  or  in  the  City, 
where  I  suppose  you  picked  them  up  ; 
but  they  can  be  dispensed  with  here. 
Your  patriotic  friend  Mr.  Hanson,  will 
enjoy  them  exceedingly  ;  and  to  him,  af- 
ter what  has  just  passed,  you  will  do 
well  to  carry  them  without  delay." 

"  I  thank    your    Lordship    for    your 

permission  to  depart,  and  am  sure  you 

are  quite  right    in  supposing   that   the 

language  of  honest  independence  and 

0  5 


S98  CALTMORPE. 

of  filial  duty,  will  not  be  offensive  to  the 
gentleman  you  have  mentioned/' 

"  Independence,  Mr.  Burleigh,  is  a 
word  you  seem  very  fond  of;  and  it 
certainly  has  a  pretty  sound  enough 
when  uttered  by  the  possessor  of  a 
princely  fortune.  But  it  has  a  dis- 
mally  ludicrous  effect  when  it  is  pro- 
nounced by  poverty.  It  is  magnificent 
when  it  comes  from  the  personage  who 
fills  the  superb  chariot ;  but  farcical  in 
the  mouth  of  the  menial  behind  it. 
Independence,  Sir,  is  a  luxury  in  which 
the  wealthy  have  a  right  to  indulge, 
but  which  the  poor  have  no  more 
claim  to,  than  the  beggar  has  to  a  coach 
and  six,  or  the  ploughman  to  wear  a 
star  on  his  smock  frock.  It  only 
remains  for  me  to  bid  you  farewell. 
When  I  next  desire  to  see  you,  I  shall 
not  think  much  of  the  trouble  of  sending 
for  you.'* 

Having  finished  his  sarcasm,  he  stalked 
off  with  appropriate  pomp,   not  a  little 


CALTHORPE.  ^99 

rejoiced,  that  he  had  found  what  ap- 
peared to  him  a  fair  opportunity  for 
shaking  off  a  needy  dependant.  Henry 
lost  no  time  in  taking  his  departure;  and 
felt  little  regret  at  leaving  the  superb 
mansion  in  which  he  had  met  with  no- 
thing but  meanness,  and  persecuting 
scorn,  to  seek  the  hospitable  roof  of 
Mr.  Hanson, 


06 


SOO  CALTHORPE. 


CHAP.  XVI. 


"  In  groundless  hope  and  causeless  fear. 
Unhappy  man !  behold  thy  doom ; 

Still  changing  with  the  changeful  year. 
The  slave  of  sunshine  and  of  gloom." 

Dr.  Johnson. 


-Henry  had  felt  considerably  affected 
by  the  apparent  distress  of  the  Common- 
councilman  at  the  idea  of  losing  the 
agreeable  society,  and  beneficial  assist- 
ance of  young  Mr.  Burleigh,  or  of  his 
"  dear  young  friend,"  as  he  most  fre- 
quently called  him.  Could  he  have  re- 
fused the  proferred  kindness  of  his  uncle 
without  giving  offence,  without  appear- 
ing insensible  to  kindness,  and  deficient 
in  gratitude,  he  would  certainly  in  the 
first  instance  have  preferred  returning 
to  the  city,  to  going  to  Guildford.     It 


CALTHORPE.  301 

was  a  relief  to  him  to  find  that  without 
taking  any  step  for  which  he  could 
with  justice  be  reproached,  he  was  now 
at  liberty  to  rejoin  the  worthy  De- 
puty. 

The  day  after  that,  on  which  he  had 
his  last  interview  with  Lord  Burleigh,  he 
presented  himself  before  Mr.  Hanson, 
and  in  few  words  described  what  had 
taken  place,  —  his  present  situation,  and 
his  fixed  determination  to  avail  himself 
of  the  kind  invitation  he  had  formerly 
received  from  him. 

But  Henry  remembered  not  the  lesson 
taught  by  the  wisest  of  men,  that,  "  there 
is  a  season  for  all  things,"  or  he  w^ould 
not  so  hastily  have  concluded,  that  that 
which  was  eagerly  courted  at  one  period, 
must  of  necessity  be  agreeable  at  an- 
other. The  invitation,  which  the  calcu- 
lating citizen  had  given  to  the  rich  Mr. 
Burleigh,  or  to  the  Mr.  Burleigh,  who 
might  be  expected  to  become  rich,  he 
had  not  intended   for  the  destitute  and 


302  CALTHORPE. 

friendless  being  who  now  stood  before 
him  ;  and  that  the  latter  should  presume 
to  come,  on  an  invitation  given  to  the 
former,  seemed  to  him  as  great  a  piece  of 
assurance,  as  if  the  servant  of  one  of  his 
friends  had  attended  to  dine  with  him, 
on  a  request  for  the  honour  of  his  mas* 
ter's  company. 

Mr.  Hanson  perceived  in  a  moment, 
that  the  expectations  he  had  entertained, 
were  not  justified  by  the  result,  and  in 
consequence,  felt  exceedingly  anxious  to 
get  rid  of  the  guest,  whose  company  he 
ha&  so  eagerly  coveted  before.  How  to 
accomplish  this,  occupied  half  his  atten- 
tion, while  he  appeared  to  listen  to  the 
statement  of  Henry.  That  terminated, 
still  the  Deputy  was  undecided  how  to 
act.  To  gain  further  time  for  reflectiqn, 
he  now  employed  his  time  in  picking  his 
teeth ;  and  while  thus  engaged,  let  out 
a  few  words  of  little  or  no  meaning,  that 
might  be  uttered  off  hand,  without  sub- 
8 


CALTHORPE.  303 

jecting  the  speaker  to  the  inconvenience 
of  thinkhig. 

**  Why  — .  certainly  you  —  were  very 
—  very  much  in  the  right  —  but  at  the 
same  time  —  I  —  am  sorry  —  that  —  you 
quarrelled  with  his  lordship.  The  — 
the  countenance  of  —  a  man  of  his 
rank  —  is  —  is  of  great  importance  —  of 
great  importance  to  a  young  man  enter- 
ing into  life/* 

<*  But,  purchased  by  the  deep  degrad- 
ation, which  he  would  have  made  its 
price,  it  would  have  been  w^orse  than  use- 
less." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  Deputy,  re- 
turning his  toothpick  to  his  pocket.  **  I 
approve  very  highly  of  your  sentiments ; 
I  think  them  excellent ;  they  are  mine  to 
a  tittle.  However,  I  am  sorry  — -  under- 
stand me  —  on  your  account,  that  you 
should  have  parted  from  your  uncle  in 
anger.  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  ;  but 
it's  unlucky  your  coming  just  now,  be- 
cause —  because " 


304  CALTHORPE. 

Here  Mr.  Hanson  stammered  for  a 
civil  apology,  for  shutting  his  door  in 
Henry's  face.  None  exactly  fitted  to  the 
occasion  presented  itself,  and  he  wanted 
resolution,  to  utter  without  disguise,  the 
truth,  —  "  that,  being  poor,  his  friendship 
was  no  longer  desired,  and  he  would  ra- 
ther that  he  should  go  any  where  else, 
than  come  there  to  reside  with  him."  He 
closed  his  speech,  by  saying,  that  **  it 
was  unlucky  that  Mr.  Burleigh  had  come 
just  then,  as  he  and  his  lady  were  particu- 
larly engaged  to  go  to  a  party  that  even- 
ing,  to  which  he  assumed,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  his  visitor  would  not  choose  to 
be  introduced  so  soon  after  his  father's 
death." 

Henry,  never  doubting  the  sincerity  of 
the  Deputy,  approved  of  the  sensibility 
which  he  supposed  to  have  dictated  this 
speech,  and  replied  with  thankfulness, 
by  begging  of  Mr.  Hanson  not  to  give 
it  a  thought,  as  he  could  amuse  himself 
with  a  book  in  their  absence. 


CALTHORPE,  305 

"  Or  if  you  like  that  better,"  said  the 
Common-councilman,  "  you  can  pass  an 
hour  or  two  in  the  counting-house.  There 
are  a  few  entries  to  be  made,  and  some 
accounts  that  have  not  been  looked 
over." 

Anxious  to  make  himself  useful,  Henry 
eagerly  gave  this  last  suggested  mode  of 
spending  his  evening  the  preference  over 
every  other.  In  the  coiuiting-house  he 
accordingly  took  his  seat,  and  the  De- 
puty, with  his  family,  shortly  after  went 
out  for  the  evening,  without  thinking  it 
necessary  to  take  any  further  notice  of 
Mr.  Burleigh. 

The  papers  to  which  Henry's  atten- 
tion  were  directed,  he  found  in  great 
disorder.  This  could  only  be  accounted 
for  by  the  absence  of  Pierre  point,  who 
was  then  on  a  journey.  He  was  expect- 
ed shortly  to  return,  and  the  parsimony 
of  Mr.  Hanson  was  too  great  to  call  in 
any  additional  assistance,  when  it  could 
by   possibility  be   avoided.      Arranging 


30G  CALTMORPE. 

the  documents,  and  producing  some- 
thing like  order  from  the  chaos  spread 
before  him,  Henry  was  equally  surprised 
and  pleased,  when  the  clock  struck 
twelve,  to  find  how  rapidly  the  hours 
had  fled,  while  his  mind  was  fully  occu- 
pied. <*  What  an  exquisite  game,"  thought 
he,  "  would  that  be  considered,  which 
could  accelerate  the  march  of  time  as 
business  does  !" 

The  Hansons  now  returned,  and 
Henry  was  coldly  saluted  by  the  ladies. 
He  imputed  this  to  a  depression  of  spirits, 
proceeding  from  the  recollection  of  the 
catastrophe,  which  had  occurred  since 
he  parted  from  them  at  Sutton.  A  very 
sparing  repast  was  set  before  him,  and  a 
languid  conversation,  interrupted  by  fre- 
quent pauses,  filled  up  the  half-hour 
which  succeeded,  at  the  expiration  of 
which  all  prepared  to  retire. 

"  As  I  mentioned  to  you  before,"  said 
Mr.  Hanson,  «  you  have  arrived  at  a  very 
unlucky  time.     Not  expecting  you,  we 


CALTHORPE.  SO? 

have  filled  your  old  chamber,  so  that 
there's  no  getting  into  it." 

"  Lord,  my  dear!"  said  Mrs.  Hanson, 
**  what  sio-nifies  tellino^  all  this.  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh  will  excuse  our  making  up  a  bed 
for  him  in  the  attic." 

**  It  is  perfectly  indifferent  to  me," 
Henry  replied,  addressing  himself  to 
Mrs.  Hanson,  *<  where  I  sleep." 

"  I  thought  so,"  cried  the  lady,  ring- 
ing the  bell,  and  directing  the  servant 
who  answered  it,  to  "  bring  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh's candle.'* 

The  servant  soon  obeyed  the  order; 
and  Henry  taking  up  the  candlestick,  rose 
to  leave  the  room,  first  turning  with  out- 
stretched hand  towards  the  Deputy,  for 
that  cordial  shake,  without  which  they 
had  never  before  separated  for  a  night, 
Mr.  Hanson,  just  at  that  moment,  per- 
ceived that  his  cravat  was  not  properly 
adjusted,  and  looking  in  the  glass  to  tie 
it  better,  though  in  a  few  minutes  it  was 
to  be  taken  off,  affected  not  to  see  the 


308  CALTHORPE. 

movement  made  by  Henry.  He,  how- 
ever, perceived  that  he  was  about  to  re- 
pah'  to  bed,  and  called  out : 

"  Good  night,  my  boy  —  goodnight- 
pleasant  dreams  to  you  —  good  night/' 

He  uttered  these  words  without  turn- 
ing his  head,  and  in  a  hurried  manner, 
with  something  like  an  air  of  pleasantry, 
but  without  any  of  that  cordiality  to 
which  Henry  had  been  accustomed. 

''  Good  night,  Mr.  Burleigh,"  said 
Mrs.  Hanson. 

"  Good  night.  Sir,"  said  Alexandrina. 

There  was  a  chilHng  coldness  of  manner 
about  them  which  he  could  not  but  no- 
tice, and  for  which  the  consideration 
which  he  had  at  first  admitted  as  its  apo- 
logy, seemed  insufficient  to  account ;  and 
the  eyes  of  all  the  speakers  were  averted, 
both  while  addressing  him,  and  while 
he  was  replying  to  their  common-place 
civilities. 

He  was  now  conducted  to  his  bed- 
chamber, which  bore  little  resemblance 


CALTttORfE.  509 

to  the  splendid  apartment  in  which  he 
had  before  reposed.  His  bed  was  spread^ 
in  a  garret,  on  a  half-tester  bedstead,  the 
head  of  which  from  the  lowness  of  the 
ceiling  it  was  impossible  to  put  up,  and 
consequently  it  was  without  curtains.  A 
piece  of  floor-cloth  lay  on  one  side  of  it, 
and  a  slip  of  ragged  old  carpeting  on  the 
|)ther.  A  small  press,  on  which  some  of 
the  portmanteaus  which  had  accompanied 
them  to  Brighton  had  been  piled  out  of 
the  way,  stood  near  the  door.  The  head 
of  the  bedstead,  which  it  has  already  been 
stated  was  useless  here,  rested  in  one 
corner,  and  a  single  chair  in  another 
completed  the  furniture  of  the  room. 

From  the  centre  of  the  apartment,  the 
only  part,  by-the-bye,  in  which  he  could 
stand  upright,  from  the  inclination  of  its 
w^alls,  Henry  gazed  in  silent  astonish- 
ment at  the  accommodation  provided  for 
him.  The  contrast  between  the  low, 
patch-work-quilted  bed  made  up  for  him 
in  a  garret,  and  the  superbly  decorated 


310  CALTHORPE. 

couch,  to  which  he  had  formerly  been 
conducted  beneath  the  same  roof,  was 
too  striking  not  to  be  inteUigible  to  him, 
inexperienced  and  unsuspicious  as  he  was 
from  his  youth  and  nature.  He  could 
no  longer  doubt  that  he  was  not  that  in- 
teresting personage,  in  the  view  of  the 
Hansons,  which  he  had  formerly  appear- 
ed, while  he  was  regarded  as  the  favourite 
of  the  great,  and  the  heir  of  fortune. 

These  ideas,  which  pressed  upon  him 
on  the  first  night  of  his  return,  were  not 
dispelled  by  the  treatment  which  he  ex- 
perienced in  the  days  that  succeeded. 
He  found  the  Hansons  guarded  against 
a  renewal  of  their  former  intimacy,  and 
even  anxious  to  obliterate  the  recollec- 
tion of  it.  The  Deputy  pretended  to  be 
in  an  incessant  bustle,  so  that  he  had  no 
time  to  speak  of  any  thing  but  business ; 
and  Mrs.  Hanson  and  Alexandrina  were 
so  much  engaged  abroad,  that,  as  it  did 
not  occur  to  them  to  ask  Mr.  Burleigh  to 
accompany  them  out,  they  could  find  no 


CALTHORPE.  311 

leisure  to  speak  to  him  at  home.  Henry 
perceived  that  they  wished  to  avoid  him, 
and  in  consequence,  it  became  his  con- 
stant study  to  shun  them.  It  was  painful 
to  find  himself  an  object  of  displeasure, 
where  he  had  once  been  so  extravagantly 
caressed;  and  he  sometimes  resolved  to 
leave  the  citizen  :  but  when  he  reflected 
on  the  triumph  this  would  afford  to  Lord 
Burleigh,  he  determined  still  to  endure, 
and  endeavoured  to  persuade  himself, 
that  the  evils  which  he  so  severely  felt 
were  those  which  he  ought  to  expect, 
and  for  which  he  should  have  prepared 
himself,  in  this  his  sad  reverse  of  fortune. 
Unpleasant  as  was  his  present  situation, 
there  was  a  prospect  of  its  being  made  still 
more  irksome.  As  yet,  he  had  not  seen 
Pierrepoint,  but  he  was  expected  speedily 
to  return ;  and  when  that  sullen  churl 
should  see  him  in  his  humiliation,  he  had 
little  doubt  that  his  unsocial  temper  and 
rude  tongue,  would  exult  over  that  change 
in  his  condition,  which  it  was  impossible 


312  CALTHORPE. 

to  conceal  j  and  he  expected  the  jealousy 
apparently  inspired  by  his  presence  at  a, 
former  period,  would  now  break  out  in 
taunts  and  sarcasms,  which  it  would  be 
equally  impossible  to  escape,  or  to  en- 
dure. 

The  events  which  we  most  dread,  are  not 
always  those  which  bring  most  sorrov/. 
Pierrepoint  returned.  Every  other  person 
in  the  house  was  changed,  and  he  was 
changed  also.  Instead  of  that  proud  un- 
bending deportment,  which  at  every  turn 
seemed  ready,  and  almost  eager  to  engage 
in  stern  altercation  with  the  intruder,  the 
proud  and  wealthy  Burleigh,  his  conduct 
was  marked  by  the  most  conciliating  mild- 
ness, and  the  most  active  exertions,  to  re- 
lieve the  neglected  Henry  from  embar- 
rassment and  fatigue.  He  endeavoured  to 
soothe  the  troubled  spirit  of  his  colleague, 
and  mourned  with  tears  the  premature 
death  of  his  father.  To  Henry  he  was  in 
every  thing  the  reverse  of  what  he  hadfor» 
merly  been  j  but  towards  the  Deputy  and 


CALTHORPE.  Sl3 

liis  lady  he  was  the  same ;  and  the  dis- 
paraging  remarks  which  the  former  would 
sometimes  freely  make  on  Henry,  or  on 
what  he  had  done,  Pierrepoint  was  ever 
ready  to  repel  with  a  degree  of  fiery  indig- 
nation, that  equally  surprised  the  objects 
t)f  his  attack  and  defence. 

The  unwearied  kindness  of  Pierrepoint 
was  not  lost  on  Henry.  It  won  his  gra- 
titude and  demanded  his  friendship.  Yet 
his  conduct  was  a  riddle  to  which  he  could 
not  find  the  solution.  Formerly  he  had 
made  courteous  advances  which  were  dis- 
regarded, though  he  was  then  in  a  situa- 
tion that  rendered  it  impossible  to  sup- 
jK)se  that  they  sprftng  from  interested 
motives.  Now  though  he  had  at  first  been 
reserved  and  distant,  he  found  Pierre- 
point all  attention  and  kindness.  He  was 
not  aware  that  at  any  time  his  conduct 
justified  the  displeasure  which  he  had 
once  remarked,  nor  could  he  discover  any 
thing  that  gave  him  a  claim  to  the  ex- 
traordinary tenderness  and  respect  with 

VOL.  I.  p 


314  CALTHORPE. 

which,  when  every  other  eye  looketl 
coldly  on  him,  he  found  himself  treated 
by  Pierrepoint. 

This  singularity  induced  him,  as  their 
nitimacy  increased,  to  utter  the  remark 
which  occurred  to  him  on  this  subject ; 
and  he  could  not  refrain  from  enquiring 
the  cause  of  a  change,  which  was  to  him 
the  source  of  surprise  and  pleasure* 
Pierrepoint  replied, 

"  I  cannot  defend  my  former  conduct* 
It  partly  grew  out  of  the  vulgar  preju^ 
dices  of  a  man  of  humble,  or  as  the  proud 
would  call  it,  of  no  birth.  I  knew  that 
you  were  rich,  and  supposed  from  seeing 
j^ou  on  friendly  terms  with  the  Han- 
sons, that  you  must  be  haughty.  You 
praised  the  Deputy  and  his  speeches  ; 
this  seemed  to  me  to  prove  meanness  and 
falsehood  ;  for  I  forgot  that  you  did  not 
know  the  man  and  were  not  aware,  as  I 
was,  that  while  eternally  talking  of  the 
necessity  of  doing  something  to  relieve 
the  unfortunate  and  to  secure  the  rights 


CALTHORPE.  315 

and  liberties  of  all  classes  of  Englishmen, 
this  patriot  to  tlie  humble  beings  depen- 
dent on  him,  was  a  most  insulting,  tyran- 
nical, and  merciless  despot." 

"  Though  harshly  expressed,  this  cha- 
racter of  Mr.  Hanson  does  not  appear  so 
unjust  to  me  now,  as  1  should  not  have 
scrupled  to  pronounce  it  at  one  period." 

"  Trust  me,  you  will  find  him  a  pom- 
pous, selfish,  heartless  wretch.  I  was  so 
injudicious  as  to  identify  you  in  some 
measure  with  him.  It  did  not  occur  to 
me  that  your  inexperience,  and  indeed  the 
generosity  of  your  own  character,  might 
preclude  you  from  seeing  through  his 
duplicity.  I  supposed  that  you  came  there 
to  display  the  pride  of  birth  and  the  in- 
solence of  wealth,  and  not  even  your  un- 
assuming deportment  could  eradicate  the 
thought." 

"  And  what  afterwards  induced  you  to 
change  your  opinion  so  suddenly  ?" 

"  The  sudden,  the  mournful  change 
in  your  circumstances.  I  had  last  seen 
p  2 


316  CALTHORPE. 

you  caressed  by  those  I  despised,,  and 
viewed  you  as  the  associate  of  theior 
choice.  When  I  returned  I  saw  you  their 
victim,  and  in  my  estimation,  you  became 
ilhistrious  as  the  object  of  their  contempt. 
I  beheld  you  rudely  shunned  in  distress, 
hy  those  who  had  meanly  courted  you  in. 
affluence.     You  languished 

*  Under  hard  unkindness*"  altered  eye,*' 

and  it  became  my  duty  to  atone,  as  far 
as  might  be,  for  the  wrong  I  had  for- 
merly done  you,  by  teaching  you  to  scorn 
as  I  do,  the  littleness  of  upstart  arrogance; 
and  by  repelling  those  insults,  which,  pre- 
suming on  your  misfortunes,  the  Hansons 
Imd  dared  to  offer." 
.  "  Generous  Pierrepoint  T* 

"  Nonsense  !  Generosity  is  out  of  the 
question,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  mean- 
ness may  not  fairly  be  charged  on  my 
conduct.  I  make  your  wrongs  an  excuse 
for  fighting  my  own  battles.  What  you 
see  in  me  is  merely  the  plebeig-n  spiritj. 
rising  in  insolent   rebellion  against  do-* 


CALTHORPE.  317 

mineering  wealth.  I  find  you  reduced  by 
poverty  to  something  like  my  own  level, 
and  your  cause  becomes  mine.  Much  do 
I  fear  that  I  have  no  better  spring  of  ac- 
tion. 1  have  wished  to  subdue  the  sullen 
disposition,  which  I  feel  growing  on  the 
wrongs  that  I  have  endured  from  the 
patriotic  Deputy.  More  of  this  hereafter. 
But  what  business  have  I  to  complain  of 
rough  usage  on  the  road  of  life.  I  am  an 
intruder  on  the  world.  I  came  unbidden, 
and  I  have  no  right  to  expect  mankind 
should  make  me  welcome." 
**  I  do  not  understand  you." 
"  I  suppose  not.  I  hardly  understand 
myself.  The  offspring  of  shame,  as  I  be- 
lieve myself  to  be,  ought  not  to  complain 
if  he  finds  him  self  rather  harshly  dealt  with. 
Some  are  reproached  with  having  never 
known  their  grandsire.  I  am  not  sure  that 
I  know  who  was  my  father.  When  I  first 
awoke  to  consciousness  and  reflection,  I 
found  myself  in  a  workhouse.  Thence  I 
was  suddenly  transplanted  to  a  respectable 
p  3 


318  CALTHORPE* 

seminary,  and  attired  in  the  dress  of  a 
young  gentleman.  A  cunning,  low,,  pro- 
fligate old  fellow,  whom  I  suspect  to  have 
committed  the  sin  of  bringing  me  into 
existence,  though  I  am  not  called  by  his 
name,  has  at  times  left  me  destitute,  and 
at  others  supplied  my  wants  with  such  a 
lavish  hand,  that  I  have  been  enabled  to 
degrade  myself  by  the  most  fashionable 
extravagance,  and  almost  to  persuade 
myself  that  I  should  some  day  or  other 
turn  out  to  be  no  common  personage. 
This  vain  day-dream  I  only  mention,  to 
laugh  at  its  absurdity.  From  the  manner 
in  which  I  have  been  treated,  I  cannot 
well  doubt  that  I  am  the  natural  son  of 
the  man  I  have  mentioned.  Some  sudden 
change  in  his  circumstances  snatched  me 
from  the  workhouse,  and  his  dissipated 
habits  account  for  the  occasional — I  may 
say  the  habitual  neglect,  which  has  since 
occurred." 

In  the  course  of  subsequent  convers- 
ations, it  appeared  that  but  for  the  neg- 
ligence of  the  old  man  who  now  seemed 


CALTHORPE.  319 

to  have  deserted  him  altogether,  Pierre- 
point  would  have  been  the  partner, 
instead  of  the  agent  of  Mr.  Hanson.  An 
agreement  had  been  entered  into,  by 
which  it  was  provided,  that  in  consider- 
ation of  the  sum  of  two  thousand  pounds 
paid  down,  Pierrepoint,  after  a  given 
period  of  servitude,  should  be  entitled 
to  a  share  in  the  concern.  The  time 
had  expired  y  but  Mr.  Hanson,  relying 
on  the  low  state  of  Pierrepoint's  finances, 
and  the  absence  of  his  supposed  father, 
who  held  the  agreement,  refused  to  exe- 
cute its  conditions. 

The  increasing  friendship  of  Burleigh 
and  Pierrepoint  did  not  at  all  tend  to 
conciliate  the  Deputy  and  his  lady, 
Henry  directed  his  attention  to  business, 
and  gave  to  it  the  whole  of  his  time,  in 
the  hope  that  under  the  instruction  of 
his  friend,  he  should  ere  long  be  of  too 
much  importance  to  his  employer,  to 
heed  that  contumely  which  npw  occa- 
sionally stung  him  to  the  quick. 

It  was  only  at  the  end  of  the  week 


320  CALTHORPE. 

that  he  could  visit  his  mother  and  sister. 
He  left  the  counting-house  on  the  after- 
noon of  Saturday,  to  return  on  Monday 
morning.    He  invited  Pierrepoint  repeat- 
edly to  accompany   him;  but  this  the 
latter  constantly  refused  to  do.  He,  how- 
ever, commonly  rode  or  walked  with  him 
part   of  the  way,    but  excused  himself 
when  within  a  mile  or  two  of  Mrs.  Bur- 
leigh's retreat,  and  turned  off  in  another 
direction.     Henry  saw  him  go  with  re- 
luctance ;  but   his   most  earnest  solicit- 
ations  were   of  no    avail.      Pierrepoint 
resolutely  declined  the  invitation.     He 
could  not  pretend  that  he  had  any  pre- 
vious   engagement;    but    he    expressed 
himself  determined  not   to  invade   the 
sanctuary  of  sorrow. 

"  But  my  mother  and  sister  are  most 
anxious  to  see  you,**  said  Henry  one 
day,  detaining  him  almost  by  force  as 
he  was  about  to  turn  away  on  perceiving 
that  he  was  nearly  within  sight  of  the 
cottage. 

«  You  must  excuse  me,**  he  replied ; 


CALTHORFE.  321 

"  I  had  rather  not  intrude  on  them  at 
present." 

"  They  will  be  most  happy  to  meet  you, 
and  I  am  desirous  of  introducing  you  to 
them.  If  for  nothing  else,  you  must  go 
on  to  see  my  sister." 

"  No,  no.  I  must  not  see  your  sister!" 
he  exclaimed. 

Henry  was  surprised  at  the  emphasis 
with  which  these  words  were  uttered, 
but  had  no  time  to  speak,  before  Mrs. 
Burleigh  and  Harriet,  who  perceiving 
them  at  a  distance,  had  advanced  to, 
meet  them,  came  unexpectedly  close 
upon  the  two  friends,  and  fairly  cut  off 
the  retreat  of  Pierrepoint.  He  started 
with  an  emotion  which  Henry  had  never 
witnessed  before.  The  expression  of  his 
countenance  told,  that  Miss  Burleigh 
and  he  did  not  now  meet  for  the  first 
time.  He  seemed  abashed,  and  wasL 
silent. 

Not  so  was  Harriet.  The  timid  dif- 
fidence which  ever  till  now  had  marked 
her   deportment,   was  in  an  instant  no 


322  CALTHORPE. 

more ;  and  hastily  advancing  to  the  friend 
of  her  brother,  she  eagerly  grasped  his 
hand  in  hers,  exclaiming,  '*  My  pre- 
server 1  My  brave  preserver !" 

With  equal  astonishment  and  plea- 
sure did  Henry  and  his  mother  learn 
that  it  was  to  Pierrepoint  that  Harriet 
owed  that  timely  rescue,  which  has  been 
recorded  —  that  it  w^as  he  who  had 
performed  the  gallant  action,  which  he 
had  endeavoured  at  Brighton  to  prove 
a  common-place  exertion,  and  for  speak- 
ing lightly  of  w:hich,  he  had  been  so 
harshly  censured.  It  was  a  moment  of 
delight  to  all  but  Pierrepoint ;  and  the  first 
which  they  had  known  since  the  decease 
of  Mr.  Burleigh. 

They  would  not  suffer  him  to  leave 
them;  and  he  consented  to  be  their 
guest  on  one  condition,  —  that  they 
should  make  known  to  no  human  being, 
(without  his  knowledge  and  consent,)  the 
discovery  of  that  hour.  Henry  wished 
to  stipulate  an  exception  in  favour  of 
Sir  James  Denville  and  a  few  particular 


CALTHORPE.  323 

friends;  but  to  this  Pierrepoint  would  not 
agree ;  and  the  pledge  which  he  peremp- 
torily claimed  was  reluctantly  given.  He 
then  accompanied  them  to  the  cottage. 

<*  Why,"  said  Henry  when  they 
found  themselves  alone,  ''  intimate  as 
we  have  lately  been,  did  you  not  tell 
me  that  you  had  seen  my  sister  ?" 

"  Because,  seeing  her  once  I  could 
not  but  love,  and  I  wished  not  to  look 
again  on  a  being,  who  could  inspire  such 
emotion  in  my  bosom,  but  whom  I  might 
never  possess." 

**  At  no  time,"  said  Henry,  "  would 
a  suitor  of  your  character  have  been 
thought  meanly  of  in  our  family.  Now, 
unhappily,  there  is  no  longer  the  shadow 
of  an  advantage  on  the  side  of  my 
sister." 

"  Say  no  more,"  Pierrepoint  replied; 
"  I  did  not  expect  to  hear  a  violation 
of  truth  from  you.  No,  no ;  it  must  not 
be.     It  is  not  for  so  obscure,  —  so  mean 


S'24}  CALTHORPE. 

a  being  as  I  am,  to  lift  up  his  unworthy 
eyes  to  that  heaven  of  beauty." 

He  was  much  agitated ;  and  that  in* 
stant,  what  Henry  had  before  observed 
and  suspected  of  Pierrepoint  and  Aiex- 
andrina,  flashed  over  his  mind. 

"  By  all  that  is  sacred,"  Pierrepoint 
continued,  "  I  would  not  suffer  such  a 
sacrifice  to  be  made.  I  trust  Miss  Bur- 
leigh's destiny  will  be  as  exalted  as  her 
charms  are  transcendant,  and  feel  as- 
sured that  a  resplendent  day  of  joy  will 
yet  succeed  to  this  awful  night  of 
sorrow." 


END    OF    THE    FIRST    VOLUME* 


Printed  by  A.  and  R.  Spottiswocde, 
Printers- Street,  London. 


M' 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLIN0I9-URBANA 


3  0112  045852214 


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